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MOODS 

AND MOMENTS 


/BY 

CARL HEINRICH 


THE 


J&bbeg Press 

PUBLISHERS 

114 

FIFTH AVENUE 

XonDon new York /Montreal 


















rs - 3 nr 
, M i 

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THE LIBRARY OP 
CONGRESS. 
Two CoPtcfc Rkotivcd 

NOV. 25 190? 



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Vionw^ 

COPY B 


Copyright, 1901, 

BY 

CARL HEINRICH. 






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CONTENTS. 


PART I. 

PAGE 

The Procession of Demons. 9 

Ballads: 

The Knight’s Song. 19 

The Eastern Bride. 21 

Songs: 

My Song. 29 

First Love. 30 

Remembrance. 31 

The Soul’s Realities. 33 

Renunciation. 34 

Jennie. 36 

The Star. 37 

Farewell.. 39 

Last Love. 41 

The Unsung Song. 42 

Night Pieces : 

The Spirit of Evening. 45 

Poppies. 47 

Serenade. 49 

A Vision. 51 

Night Thoughts. 52 

The Twilight Country. 57 

3 






















4 Contents. 

PART II. 

PAGK 

Satires : 

The Tourist Speaks. 85 

The Crocodile Soliloquizes. 89 

The Interludes of the Orchestra. 92 

PART III. 

Redemption.. 119 

Beside the Cataract. 121 

Dramatic Studies : 

The Madman's Quest. 131 

Remorse. 134 

Soliloquy in a Cell . 137 

The Coward’s Tragedy. 139 

Alice. 142 

Grandpa. 146 

Despair. 148 

Odes : 

To the Cultivated Rose. 157 

On the Lesser Passion. 159 

On the Close of the Century. 162 

Nature: a Poem-Symphony. 169 

The Forest. 170 

The Ocean. 180 

The Heavens. 187 





















Ube ©recession of Demons 
H ©cologne. 



MOODS AND MOMENTS. 


Xlbe procession of Demons: H prologue. 

’Twas the wildest night of the winter. 

The earth was lost in a white-Nvaved sea. 

The branches bent down before the storm, 

And the darkness was pale with the snowflakes. 

In my study the light had faded. 

The fire in red embers was dying, 

And the gloom of the winter’s night was on all 
things. 

I sat as one weary of strife, 

For the gloom of the winter’s night was like¬ 
wise upon me. 

The page of the past and the present was empty 
of meaning, 

And the page of the future was veiled in the 
darkness. 

Of a sudden a voice spoke beside me, 

And in the vacant space appeared a form— 

A human form but for its angel radiance, 

9 


10 


Moods and Moments. 


A maiden form but for its godly mein, 

A gliostly form but for its human warmth. 

It was a maid that spoke; 

But her voice was that of a man contented. 

“ Youth,” she said, “ I come to thee; 

Bor it is well that thou shouldst know me. 

In the language of man my name is Love. 

I bloom in the lilac and lily, 

In the roses white and red. 

In the song of the robin I sing; 

And the voice of the sea is my voice. 

In the springtime my garment is green; 

A dark-leaved mantle is mine in the autumn 
And white is my robe in the winter. 

I joy in the birth of a flower, 

In the passions and sports of the jungle, 

In the union of maiden and man. 

I follow the stars in their courses ; 

And peoples are happy in my name. 

Look on me, youth, and know me. 

Take me unto the bosom of thy soul, 

Adoring first the maiden then the God. 

Let thy pen move forever at my bidding; 

For nature lives in me. 

I mould thy dreams and longings; 


The Procession of Demons. 


ii 


And hold thee in the hollow of my hand. 
Behind the ways of destiny I am.” 

The maiden gone, a warrior took her place— 
An iron-visaged chief, no longer young, 

And bearing on liis front the dent 
Of many battles. Thunder was his speech. 

“ Hear, boy! my words are few. 

Take down thy histories ! 

Look in the chronicles 
Of yesterdays and days that are! 

Spell out the writ and living page! 

Find what must he! and then-■’* 

“ And then, most dreadful specter, what ? ” 

I cried. The vision pondered, frowned and 
spake: 

“ Thou art too young to hear; 

Yet speak what thou dost see! 

Then let the God of battles point thy course! ” 

With that he vanished. 

A moaning shuddered in the air; 

And of the shudder came a hag— 

A specter more than fiend and less than woman. 



12 


Moods and Moments. 


Her hair hung straight and bloody round her 
face, 

And twined about her famine-withered form. 
Except for this she stood in shameless naked¬ 
ness. 

Her lips had parted o’er her yellow fangs. 

Two tearwells tilled thes sockets of her skull; 
And shredded flesh hung to her nails. 

She spoke as one in pain:— 

u Eorget me not, sweet youth! 

My name is Misery. 

Where there is life I am; 

And I endure forever. 

I breathe upon the flower; it is deadly. 

In the jungles I make hate and endless war. 

I smite the abundant earth with famine. 

Its shades I fill with fever; 

And among its peoples I spread corruption and 
disease. 

Envy and strife I bring into the council halls 
of men. 

I make ambition seem a wretched thing; 

And I ordain that they who rise shall tread the 
fallen. 

Whate’er is beautiful I mar with ugliness; 


The Procession of Demons. 13 

And things most holy I defile. 

I make the voice of love temptation unto sin; 
And pain and shame the end of # loving. 

I strike the mother from her child, 

Draw friend from friend, 

And set blood-bonded men at war. 

I make the word of faith damnation for the 
weak; 

And to adoring incense add the stench of perse¬ 
cution. 

I glory in the carnage of the battle-field; 

And find a consolation in the fruitless toil of 
millions. 

I am the second voice of God—• 

The after echo of the universal song. 

All things that live must call me mother; 

For I am Misery. 

Remember me! Remember me forever, youth! ” 

Then rose a comely matron in her place 
A matron neither ravishing to look 
Upon, nor graced with the proud dignity 
Which qualifies the empress of the heart. 

Her charm was of a household nature, meant 
For daily use among the changing scenes 
Of life. Her beauty was less eloquent 


14 


Moods and Moments. 


For what it spoke than what it left unsaid. 
’Twas such as grows from day to day more dear, 
As day by da^ it more reveals the soul 
Within. She smiled, but slightly, as she spoke: 

“ My son, I would thy close companion he, 
That thou mightst view all things with equal 
eye. 

I’d have thee look not over long upon 
The serious face of life. With too much gazing 
On th’ nearby red and somber hues, the eye 
Grows blind to them beyond. Hope not for joy 
Unbroken; joy would not be joy were all 
Its days the same. Sweet smiles would lose 
their sweetness 

Did tears come not between. Hor ask, ray son, 
Too often for the essence of man’s life— 

The central thought in human fellowship'. 
Scorn not the trappings of the world or th’ 
man. 

They serve no less a purpose than the soul. 
Find cause to think, and cause to smile, in all 
That is. What now is pain to-morrow shall 
Be peaceful rest. What now is bliss shall be 
To-morrow, likewise, rest. So learn to smile; 
For by this art alone can truth be found, 


The Procession of Demons. 15 

And balance struck twixt dark and light. But 
more 

Than all, I charge thee, read thy soul, and what 

Thy God hath written there with modest 
thoughts; 

For there is no thing yet so high, but there 

Is higher; naught so low, but there is lower; 

And in the eyes of God all stand the same. 

Fail not my counsel, son. ’Tis thy salvation, 

Truth’s beacon blinds, and th’ venom of sin’s 
sadness 

Destroys the soul that learns not how to smile. 








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JSallaCis. 




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BALLADS. 


1 . 

Uhc fcnigbt’s Song* 

The night was dark, and the wind* was wild, 
And the forest wailed like a helpless child. 
Huge castles frowned on the country round; 
And the heavens breathed with a stilled sound 
The despairing notes of war. 

The moon shone red from a cloud-veiled sky 
Which revealed no star to the anxious eye. 

Ho glad-voiced bird let its song be heard. 

Hot a branch bowed low, nor a leaflet stirred, 
But it voiced impending woe. 

One song alone, of a gentler strain— 

Like a faint far gleam in a night of rain— 
Was borne on high by the angels nigh 
To the halls beyond of the mouldy sky. 

’Twas a soldier’s serenade: 

“ Loved one, my angel, pure and fair, 
Be thou my guiding star. 

Lead me to battle with thy prayer. 

19 


20 


Moods and Moments. 


Watch, o’er me from afar. 

Love, be my guiding star! ” 

’Twas still and dark on the northern plain, 
Where the soldier lay mid the heaps of slain 
He raized his head from his frozen bed, 

To repeat his song to the listless dead, 

Ere the morning’s silence fell: 

“ Loved one, my angel, pure and fair, 
Be thou my guiding star. 

Open the heavens with thy prayer. 
Watch o’er me from afar. 

Love, be my guiding star! ” 


The Eastern Bride. 


21 


2 . 

Qhe Eastern Bribe, 

It was a night of wondrous calm, 

So innocent of all but the sleeper’s sigh 
That a voice seemed ever waiting nigh. 

The wind reposed in the folding leaf; 

The serpent lay still as a hunted thief; 

The insect murmured not o’er the pool 
Where it dipped its fevered wings to cool; 
The lotus folded its petals tight; 

The stars, like ashes aglow with light, 

Made the stillness even yet more still; 

The moon, as it mounted above the hill, 
Caused not a ripple of sound to wake; 

And the passing moments all but spake. 

It was a night so wondrous calm. 

Mid palm-veiled hills in a palace lone 
The sultan’s captive slept. 

Her heaving breast 
Was sore oppressed; 


22 


Moods and Moments. 


For dream thoughts told with what helpless 
moan 

Her Grecian lover wept. 

In her naked beauty she lay 
On a divan of tiger skins, 

Wondering if time could take away 
The shame of unwilful sins. 

With pearls were her ebon tresses wound, 

A jeweled girdle her full hips hound— 

A girdle of rubies and opals that burned 
Like feverish stars whene’er she turned 
A limb or loosed an amorous sigh. 

A gauze, as fine as the lights that lie 

Inside of the curve of the scimiter moon, 
Enveloped her form in its silken clasp. 

And an odor too rare for the sense to grasp 
Made sweet the air at her ev’ry gasp, 

And caused the o’er-luscious poppies to swoon. 
But all her beauty she valued not, 

Nor the glory of being the sultan’s bride; 

For her loved one could not be forgot, 

Tho a monarch languished at her side. 

She had held Mahomet in her embrace. 

His hot kiss lingered still on her face; 

But her longing lay with the Grecian boy 


The Eastern Bride. 


23 


Who first had opened her life to joy. 

She slept; but slumber brought no rest 
To her bitter love-o’er-laden breast. 

The gauze enfolded her flesh like a flame; 
And the girdle burned like a belt of shame. 
For her there was no balm 
In the night’s unmurmuring calm. 


In the midst of her sleep she had a dream 
Wherein the unbroken quiet did seem 
To cease. A sound as of many wings 
In motion, the murmur the breeze oft brings 
From the far rock-bounded unrestful sea, 

The whir of iEolian harps set free 
In the wind her fancy seemed to hear; 

And over all a song rang clear— 

The song of her lover approaching near. 

’Twas a joy-mad music she heard ; but the strain 
Was ever jarred by a note of pain 
Which rose with a sob and was gone again. 
’Twas a wild, strange music that smote her 
ear: 

Oh! sleep no more, my love, to-night; 

For I come to set thee free. 


24 


Moods and Moments. 


Thru hateful lands, 

O’er thirsty sands 
Have I journeyed long for thee. 
Oh! Heaven, forget not my faithful love! 


I come with naked sword to-night, 

To regain the maid I lost, 

Tho ev’ry flood 
Run thick with blood, 

And my soul in hell be tossed. 

Oh! Father in heaven, forsake me not! 

A galley rides near shore to-night, 

That shall bear thee far away 
To lovely isles 
Where God still smiles, 

And the sultan has no sway. 

Oh! guide and protect us, great God of love! 

Be mine, sweet maid, once more to-night 
Let me feel thy love-warm breath. 
With passioned kiss 
Transfix my bliss, 

Or make sweet a bitter death. 

Oh! Father in heaven, hast thou forgot? 


The Eastern Bride. 


25 


The music ceased. The night grew calm. 

The captive’s dream dissolved. She woke. 

In her waking ears a terror spoke. 

She turned; and beheld, in the full of the light, 
In robe and in gem-strewn turban white, 
Mahomet the sultan! Silent he stood, 

As a tiger who waits his prey in the wood. 

O’er his garments the ghastly moonbeams 
played, 

And quivered along the bloody blade 
He held outstretched. And most mildly he 
spake; 

But his words were amber embedding a snake: 

A Christain came to the sultan’s shore, 

To steal from Mahomet’s side 
His youngest, loveliest bride; 

But he who came shall return no more; 

For the son of the prophet hath eyes. 


A song arose from the Christian’s throat. 
He sang the sultana’s name, 

Revealing her master’s shame. 

And red with blood was the closing note; 
For the children of Alla are wise. 


26 Moods and Moments. 

A last farewell e’er the darkness flee 
Farewell to the sultan’s bride! 
To-morrow at ebbing tide 
She sleeps forever beneath the sea; 

That the faithful in honor may rise. 

The maiden heard; and thick and slow 
The stream of her anguish seemed to flow 
She voiced no pain, no murmur of woe; 

But her heart beat hard at its bounds, 

Like a captive beast made mad with wounds. 
Tier flesh was by pulsing fevers burned; 

And the girdle writhed like a serpenf spurned.—* 
Without the night was wondrous calm! 


Soncs. 































































































































































































SONGS. 

1 . 

fllMl Song* 

Of love my song shall be, 

Of love that grieves 
But leaves 
A high tranquillity. 

A diamond crush’d 
Is dust, 

And cuts the uncut stone. 

The trodden vine 
Gives wine; 

And tears for the sin atone. 

A wounded heart 
Will smart, 

And bleed till its life is gone. 

But I sing not of stone, nor of vine, 

Nor the failing life, nor the fatal wine. 
The seed that dies 
To rise 

An ever-verdant pine; 

Of this my song shall be— 

Of love both human and divine. # 


2 9 


30 


Moods and Moments. 


2 . 

jftrst Xov>e. 

When first the infant smiles, 

Then love is born, 

Then blooms the morn 
Of a sours uneven day. 

Oh! ye who shelter love’s thin faint flame, 
first lit in infant smiles, 

Protect from tempest and mist this flame, 
Shelter it long, 

And leave it strong, 

That its warmth pass not away; 

For heavy’s the wind and dense the rain 
That must fall ere the day be done; 

And cold is the curse and sharp the pain 
That will strike if a love begun 

Shall cease, if its fire be lit in vain. 

Oh! ye who shelter love’s thin faint flame, 
First lit in infant smiles, 

Shelter it long, 

And leave it strong; 

For it need not pass away. 


Remembrance. 


3i 


3 . 

IRemembrance* 

I sit alone. 

The day is past; 

The rain falls fast; 

The trees make moan; 

The hail strikes hard as stone; 
'And I in sadness sit alone. 

I close my eyes. 

A stillness grows' 

A faint breeze blows; 

The dead days rise; 
Remembrance brings love-sighs; 
And love-words, as I close my eyes. 

Our last embrace, 

And kiss-bound vow 
Come to me now; 

Across my face 
Remembered fevers chase; 

I feel once more our last embrace. 


32 Moods and Moments. 

I wake again. 

Rough thunders swell 
The tempest’s hell; 

Thick falls the rain, 
Surcharged and shrill with pain. 
Am I indeed awake again? 


The Soul’s Realities. 


33 


4 . 

Ube Soul’s IRealittes* 

I know yon cloud is but a mist, 

Yon music but the noise of leaves 
Slow-shaken by an aimless wind. 

All this my reason b’lieves. 

My high ambition’s but a dream 

Which morn’s fulfilling may not see. 
The love I feign for future years 
Is far too sweet to ever be. 

Yet cloud and wind-song move my heart, 
And comfort me in my distress. 

My dream I value more than life; 

And love I daily live to bless. 


3 


Moods and Moments. 


5 . 

IRenunctatton, 

’Tis better so— 

My angel said— 

Tho the darkness smite thee sore. 
Love’s happy glow 
Now shivers dead, 

And may never kindle more. 

’Tis better so! 

The candle dims the starry beam 
Bright with the light of years. 
The soul’s most splendid beacons seem 
Pale thru our veiling tears. 

Be calm, be strong, my child! 
Thou’lt find the darkness mild 
When tears shall cease their flow 
And the beacon star shall guide 
When the candle’s flame has died. 

’Tis better so! 

No loving breast may be a rest 
To thy worldly-weary head; 


Renunciation. 


35 


But so ’tis best. Thou art more blest 
That thy feet must ever tread 
On a lonely star-lit road, 

That thy heart hath no abode. 

’Tis better so! 

Thy soul shall with deeper calm be filled. 
Thy heart shall with fiercer love be thrilled. 
And thy feet shall tread where the heroes trod. 
And thy breast shall burn with the flame of 
God. 

; Tis better so! 


36 


Moods and Moments. 


6 . 

Jennie♦ 

Like a swallow that rests in its flight 
From wood to wood, 

In pensive mood, 

Like a beacon beheld thru the night 
By a mariner tempest-toss’d, 
Like a melody found and lost, 
Half understood, 

Like an azure rift in a leaden sky, 
Like a fragrance caught by a passer-by, 
Is my Jennie. 

While she is near 
I’ll shed no tear, 

Ho pain I’ll fear; 

But ah! the woe, 

The sorrow when she shall go! 

My Jennie I 


The Star. 


37 


7 . 

Uhc Star. 

I saw a glimmer in the deep. 

I knew not if to smile or weep; 

For angel whispers said: 

Rejoice with bended head, 

A star is born to-night. 

Row, love, I know thou art the star 
That shines so radiant, so far. 

My path may not encompass thine, 

I may not cross the black abyss, 

To melt thee with a lover’s kiss; 

But ever shall thy rays be mine, 

To guide me thru the night. 

Watch, love, my lonely sphere, 

Unto the deep give ear; 

And thru the darkness thou may’st hear. 
When my poor light shall die, 

A benediction-breathing sigh. 

Then let the angels say: 


38 


Moods and Moments. 


Rejoice with bended head; 
A pain has passed away, 
Another love is dead, 

A star has gone to-night. 


i 


Farewell. 


39 


8 . 

farewell. 

We'll sing no more of love, sweet man 1 , 
Nor murmur words of woe. 

Let parting leave us not afraid; 

For God has willed it so. 

A voice within speaks low. 

It bids me smile and go. 

Think not I wish thee aught but well. 
All happiness be thine. 

May love-light ever shine 
Undimmed about thy head. 

May glad dreams ever spread 
White wings above thy bed. 

May flowers ever fragrant smell; 

And may thy marriage bell 
Prove no funereal knell. 

Be happy, maid, and free. 

Leave sorrowing to me 

Who must with grief grow old 

While love’s hearthstone turns cold. 


40 


Moods and Moments. 


Farewell, sweet maid! I’d be thy friend; 
Thy soul from sorrow I’d defend. 

I’d be thy life-long friend. 

Be thou my memory 1 


Last Love. 


4i 


9 . 

Xast Xove* 

Dear Jesus, master, man! 

I’d grasp thy hand across the years 
I’d know thy inward-flowing tears. 
My soul I would free 
Of meaningless fears, 

And of the suffering that sears. 

I’d labor to be, 

Like thee, 

A perfect man. 

Teach my soul a iove like thine! 

Fill me with the will divine 
To lessen human woe, 

Some blessing to bestow 
On those who come and go. 

Teach me to taste the bitter sweet. 
Teach me with eager lips to greet 
Whatever cross be mine. 

And let me grow to be, 

Like thee, 

A love-led man. 


42 


Moods and Moments. 


10 . 


Gbe Ulnsuno Song. 

Like perfume of a rose unblown, 
Our sweetest song must sleep. 
No ear 
May hear 

The melody we keep 
Muted within our hearts. 

Like music of a world unknown, 
That song as truly lives. 

The happiness it gives 
Only with life departs. 


might pieces. 




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NIGHT PIECES. 


1 . 

Ube Spirit of ^Evening* 

As the buds of heaven one by one 
Opened their leaves of light, 

And the wind’s warm breathing, just begun, 
Wafted the lilac fume, 

A maiden, garbed in a gauze of white, 

Stepped from the wood-world’s gloom, 

And over the sleeping grass took flight; 

And parted her lips in song as she flew: 

“ I am the spirit of ev’ning, 

Goddess of love, 

And she who nightly deepens thy dreams. 
Green will I gather thy grieving. 

Chorals above, 

And flowers below are thine to follow me. 

In my amber hair I’ll wind thee. 

With my warm white arms I’ll bind thee. 
The colors of cloud-film fringing the moon, 
The music of warblers throated in tune 
I’ll give thee nightly, filling thy dreams 

45 


46 


Moods and Moments. 


With loveliness, light and wonder; 

And, parting the years asunder, 

All things I’ll reveal thereunder. 

Yea! more will I do if thou but follow me.” 

And I followed the maiden far that night 
’Till she faded away in the mist of the 
morning, 

’Till the buds of heaven one by one 
Folded their leaves of light. 

And now—tho I love the virgin morn 
Tho I love to watch a sinking sun 
Shadow a range of hills— 

Deeper’s the joy that thrills 
My soul when the skies themselves adorn 
With stars and the deep-voiced night is born. 
Then my spirit communes with the spirit of 
ev’ning; 

Music from other spheres, 

And songs that in joy remember pain 
Float to my list’ning ears, 

Bidding lowly distresses be stilled; 
And my heart with a fragrance is 
filled— 

The fragrance of flowers after rain. 


Poppies. 


47 


2 . 

Poppies. 

Nod, pale poppies! Nod in tlie sleeping garden! 
The burden of life breathes deep; 

The multitude breathes in sleep, 

Ilu-shed; and day’s loud labor is now forgotten. 

Bells intone, calling to Easter morrow. 

The midnight is glad with bells; 

And mildly the music swells. 

Nod, pale poppies! Nod thou thy red and yel¬ 
low! 

Prayers on wings of chime-tones are carried 
heavenward, 

To wander among the stars, 

To laze till a spirit jars 
Music from them, and casts it around the sleep¬ 
ers. 

Thou pale poppies, pray in thy red and yellow; 
And I am within at prayer; 

And calm is the night and fair, 

Pilled with spirit voices, with prayer arid quiet. 


48 Moods and Moments. 

Something unknown of day is abroad to-night 
—a glory—- 

A passion subdued—a love 
From earth and the worlds above; 

Something I know not—an angel, perhaps, that 
my soul has created— 

An angel with stars in her hair and with 
poppies as girdle and raiment. 


Serenade 


49 


3 . 

Serenafce, 

Oh, my love, leave thy bow’r, 

While the eve’s in the hour, 

While our souls feel the pow’r 
Of embracing! 

Come, love! leave the shadow 
Of cloistering home! 

Come, love! we’ll be glad tho 
We ever must roam 

From the warm-lit hearth and the rose-twined 
roof 

Where the later love is from pain made proof. 
Tho we ever must roam 
From the child-bearing home, 

We can feel no loss; for our song shall be long 
with delight, 

And our coldest kisses shall throb as a sob in 
their might, 

And the stars shall lead and shall light us from 
night unto night 
Of embracing! 

Oh love! I have seen and caressed thee. 


5o 


Moods and Moments. 


In wildest of dreams have I pressed thee; 
But only in dreams, 

In day-destroyed dreams! 

Let us languish divided no longer; 

Lest passion depart ere our souls can grow 
stronger 

In passion, lest night shall be with us no longer. 
Let us journey together with love! 


A Vision 


5i 


4 . 

\ 

H littstom 

I behold tliee beyond of the year now passing, 

With tbe sounds and the shadows of twilight 
round thee; 

And the last of the songs with the day is dying; 

And sleep comes softly unto the hilltops. 

Is it sadness I read in thy drooping eyelids, 

As the smile of the evening star meets thy 
gazing ? 

Or a happiness fashioned from joy and sorrow, 

And blessed by calm communion with 
goodness ? 

« 

On beholding thee haloed in evening glory 

I would pray, tho my lips are for prayers un¬ 
fashioned, 

That the tears of thy sorrows may flow not 
harshly, 

And that thy soul may smile as it slumbers. 


52 


Moods and Moments. 


5 . 

IFUgbt ^bought*. 

Within the west the crescent moon hung large 
And low, half dimmed in rippled gauzy clouds; 
And in the east a soundless lightening flashed 
Repeatedly; and stars filled all between. 

Upon a hillock sat two friends, and gazed 
Across this sky and spoke their inmost thoughts: 
Their yester trials; their dreams of days to come 
When hunger should be less among the people; 
Their purple visions of triumphant war, 

Of bloodless, tearless war for those whom men 
Oppress, and gracious knights may not defend; 
Their vague expectance of the final sleep; 
Their present happiness in being near 
To smell the odor of the unseen flower, 

To hear the longing beat of distant waves, 

To feel the tremble of the slow-blown leaves, 
To sit beneath the vault of gleaming years 
In fellowship of dreams and high ambition. 


Night Thoughts. 53 

And when these friends had voiced their in¬ 
most thoughts, 

They gazed across the heaven,—silent, each 

In wonder what that sky might mean in words; 

And what the song, now throbbing in their 
breasts, 

Could sing to man’s emotion or his understand¬ 
ing. 



































































































































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The Twilight Country. 


57 


Cbe TTwtlujbt Country. 

I left my books ill utter weariness. 

Their thoughts grew heavy on me like the 
mist 

Upon a sleeping city. Slowly seemed 

The sky to deepen. Slowly spread the sun¬ 
set. 

Beyond the nearby smoke-drenched buildings 
stood 

The mountains, mantled silver-blue with twi- 
light— 

The quiet emblems of a great unrest, 

A once-convulsing passion, now at peace. 

Above them burned a sky which might have 
rimmed 

The mouth of hell, or blazed the gates of 
heaven. 

’Twas red ; a rolling mass of deepest red 

Which shot thin spears of vivid crimson 
round 

In radiations, e’en unto the zenith, 


58 Moods and Moments. 

And made a seeming distance past the moun¬ 
tains. 

This view for many moments held me 
tranced; 

When a warbled peal burst bright from the airy, 
And a bird of a day-cloud whiteness of feather. 
Flying to westward, 

Flew ’gainst the sunset, 

Flew toward the mountains, 
Breasted with crimson. 

A spirit of passion and pureness 
Flew far to westward,—and vanished. 

Upon my revery that cry had fallen, 
And strangely moved me. 

I felt as one must feel who, newly 
wakened, 

Hears a far-off footfall, 

Who, betwixt the midnight and the 
morning, 

Hears a half-lost footfall; 

And wearily longing for a land of 
rest, 

My spirit loosed its bonds, 

And followed with the sunset- 
breasted bird, 


The Twilight Country. 


59 


And passed beyond the darkening 
mountains, «, 

Passed to twilight meadows 
Far beyond the snow-peaks. 

Another land I found, explored by none and 
nameless,— 

A land of gentle billows purple-gray at sun¬ 
down,— 

A land of many wand’ring, slowly-rolling 
rivers,— 

Of little rivers banked by lilies, grassy hills, 

And scattered pine-groves in whose midst small 
gothic bowers, 

Of whitest marble, shone;—all this enveiled in 
twilight. 

And soon to meet me came a band of white- 
robed pilgrims,— 

A band of siik robed silver sandaled pilgrims 
came 

From out the nearest grove, and bade me wel¬ 
come, searched 

Me with their violet eyes, and, smiling, bade me 
welcome. 

The eldest of the pilgrims took my hand, and 
spoke:—» 


60 Moods and Moments. 

“ Brother, we have waited for thy coming 
long; 

And many times we feared lest thou mightst 
lose 

Thy way among the high hills of the east. 

Henceforth this twilight land shall be thy 
home; 

And peace and high content, which ever seeks 

For higher things, shall be thy portion. 
Come! 

The youths and maidens speak thy name and 
wait thee.” 

And then they took me to a grove-shrined foun¬ 
tain pool, 

And bathed me there in waters- of a gradual 
coolness; 

In gently-heaving waters of a gradual coolness 

They washed my weary pains and travel dust 
away; 

And silver sandals bound they to my rested 
feet; 

And garbed me in a siver-girdled robe of white 

And clinging silk; and gave me wine ,to drink; 
and all 

Drank with me,—crystal wine from cool- 
rimmed crystal goblets, 


The Twilight Country. 61 

Then to the nearest gothic bower moved our 
band, 

And entered,—entered there and s,tood a mo¬ 
ment while 

My full soul eased itself of sighs of ecstasy. 

The bower in the dim light of the evening 
seemed 

A grove transformed to marble,—seemed a tem¬ 
ple grove 

Of milk-white melting marble. Silent stood we 
there 

To feel i,ts purifying whiteness,—silent stood 

And listened; for, within, a mellow-throbbing 
harp 

Made all the dim recesses quiver with its music, 

And filled us with a joy that wishes not for 
speech. 

A moment thus our band remained; but soon 
the harp 

Was mute, while roxmd us many hundred silver 
globes 

Of tiny size began to glow with light. Then 
moved 

We to a smaller room, and joined the youths and 
maidens. 


62 


Moods and Moments. 


These seemed to know me as a friend returned 
from absence,— 

A friend who never had been strange, but only 
absent. 

They kissed me joyfully upon the lips, and 
spoke:— 

“ Brother, why have you so long remained 
away ? 

The twilight hour is sad, the harp sings not, 

And vacant is each breast when you are gone; 

More vacant than the seat you leave unfilled, 

More vacant than the song you leave unsung. 

But now we have you back, our hearts shall 
hold 

You fast.—Come! watch with us the night’s 
beginning.” 

And o’er the purpled earth and on the sky we 
gazed 

And saw them deepen,—saw the stars begin to 
quiver; 

And thru the snowy casement, thru the stirring 
pines 

We saw the moonlit, broad, refulgent river,— 

The central river of this twilight country lit 

Upon its wave-tops by a spring-tide moon new- 
risen. 


The Twilight Country. 63 

All thru the ev’ning thus we gazed on the sky 
and meadow; 

And held familiar discourse, speaking nobly, 
freely, 

As members of a brotherhood where all have 
thoughts 

Harmonious, and where each feels the other’s 
joy. 

All thru the early night hours sat we by the case¬ 
ment, 

Till darkness bade us sleep. Then one by one 
we went 

To rest, I lingering till each had sought his 
couch; 

For so unweary seemed the air, so soft the 
sounds, 

So cool the touch of night that sleep was less de¬ 
light 

Than wakefulness. And when at last I, like¬ 
wise, sought my bed, 

’Twas not for slumber but to lie awake,—to lie 

Unrobed upon my couch, and feel the breeze 
blow o’er me,— 

To lie soft-pillowed, still, and, thru the high- 
arched windows, 


64 Moods and Moments. 

To watch the ever-rising star groups, and to 
hear 

The low intoning of the pines arpeggio-swept 

By gusts of wind,—to hear the gentle lash of 
waters,— 

The river’s lap and splash against its sedgy 
banks,— 

The sound of water running swift thru sedge 
and lilies. 

And, as I listened, some late harpist smote his 
harp; 

And note by note a w T arfiled chord welled out; 
and I slept; 

Nor dreamed I, yet was sweetly conscious that 
I slept.— 


With the first white beam of day in the east 

I left my sleep and rejoined my compan¬ 
ions, 

With .them to feel the delights of the dawn. 

The sky was a pale and soft-glowing sap¬ 
phire. 

The wavy earth was a tender green, 

And glittered with dew as with water- 
pearls, 


The Twilight Country. 65 

Pink-flushed were the fluffy eastern cloud¬ 
lets, 

Lilac-dyed were the clouds of the zenith; 
And the thin-drawn veil of the west was 
gray. 

Amid the earth’s sprig-budding green 
Lilies and yellow poppies abounded. 

The glittering river rippled with light. 

The marble buildings, wliite-winged birds, 
And the silken robes of the pilgrims 
All flashed with the mirthful glory of 
dawn. 

All the earth was glad wi,th a budding glad¬ 
ness; 

And the seashell-tinted sky, and our hearts, 
Like the earth, were filled with the throb of 

joy. 


The day, however, once begun 
In fullness, the morning table cleared 
Of flowers, fruits, and empty wine 
cups, 

We left the grove, and joined the 
army 

Of pilgrims moving westward. All 


66 


Moods and Moments. 

The morn we marched in slow proces¬ 
sion; 

The youths and maidens leading, arm 
In arm, with laughter, dance, and 
song; 

The elders following in fashion 
More suited to their snowy years; 

The children skipping at our sides 
In sportive glee. Indeed, ’twas more 
A reasoned ramble than a march; 

For ever and anon we paused 
T’ explore some wayside grove, 

From whose green caverns infant 
voices, 

With eager pipings, heralded 
A new transcendant beauty. Oft 
We stopped to pluck the peeping 
flower, 

Or bruise the roadside grape against 
Our gentle thirst; but never sore 
For hot with travel, for the road 
We trod was smooth and gave no dust, 
While overhead an arch of leaves 
Permitted only gentle beams 
To warm our journey. All the morn 


The Twilight Country. 67 

We marched in slow procession, 
shaded 

And walled by miles of elm and pine. 
As noon drew near the shading leaves 
Became less dense, the tree-wall 
thinned; 

The road took on an upward slope; 
And all the band grew silent: youths 
And maidens,—elders,—children,— 
all! 

Ere I could voice my questioning 
Surprise, a near companion spoke: 

“ Brother, calm thy soul! Prepare for 
wondrous things! 

Beyond the brow of yon low-lying hill 
A nameless glory waits thy ears and eyes; 
And love prepares for thee a pleasant 
doom. 

The just and great Judge ponders on thy 
worth, 

Takes council with thy wishes and thy 
strength; 

And, as we journey, formulates thy judg¬ 
ment.^ 


We touched the summit of the hill.— 


68 


Moods and Moments. 


Oh! how shall I sing of it! 
Splendor unspeakable! 

Valley of em’rald fire! 

City of molten gold! 

River of diamond light! 
Mountains of thawless ice! 

Sun pouring over all 
Radiant cataracts! 

Splendor unspeakable! 

How shall I sing of it! 

Lying beneath us a valley, 

Smooth as the rain-beaten water, 

Green with the grasses of springtime, 
Stretched to the snowy-robed moun¬ 
tains 

Guarding the unknown west. 

And forth from their caverns the river— 
With heavy majestic movement, 
With diamond wavelets rippled, 
And rocking the sun on its bosom — 

Emptied, and curved down the valley, 
To vanish at last thru a cleft in the crescent of 
hilltops 


Rimming the em’rald vale. 
And set in the center a city, 

More splendid than singer may sing of, 


The Twilight Country. 69 

More white than the snows of the summits, 
More golden than fires of the moring, 
Shone like a builded dream. 

Of marble unstained were its palace and ram¬ 
part walls. 

Of virginal gold was its crown of cathedral 
spires, 

And the million minarets 
That be jeweled its foam-white 
brow. 

In the raining rays of noon 
It appeared a froth of white, 
And a mist of golden fire. 

And down from the crescent of hilltops 
Pilgrims in bands of ten thousand 
Poured like a flood-burst of lilies,— 
Poured o’er the valley beneath us 
Into the gates of the city. 

And like them we slowly descended, 

With the fragrance of trodden flowers 
And the music of many voices. 

With singing and waving of branches 
We entered the vale of love, 

The valley of labor and love,— 

We paused—all pilgrims paused—;the sun at¬ 
tained high noon— 


70 Moods and Moments. 

The gates fell back—and then— 

To the boom of a brazen bell, 

To the ever-increasing swell 
Of the city’s noon-tide chime, 

To the pulsing ocean tone 
Of an hundred organs blown 
In triumphant marshal time, 

To a prean loud and long, 

To a thunder-burst of song, 

We entered the great sun city! 

Once I had passed within the gates, my friends, 
Excepting one who stayed to pilot me 
Among the city’s wonders, bade me brief 
Farewell fill we should meet again before 
The Judgment Seat. Then he who yet re¬ 
mained 

Led me into the avenues of commerce, 

Where skilful craftsmen labor without toil, 
And noiseless engines shape materials 
Of use and ornament for all the land. 

We saw the men at work. We visited 
Their homes; and everywhere found labor 
joined 

With love and beauty. Wonder-struck I 
watched 


7i 


The Twilight Country. 

Gigantic forms attain convulsive birth 
Upon the pressure of a hand unable 
To loose a bolt from that it had created. 

Had not my comrade led me off I fear 
I should have staid forever by the workmen; 

So strangely fascinating were their tasks. 

On leaving them we crossed the river to 
That portion of the city dedicate 
To culture and authority. My friend 
How led me into schools where youths are 
trained 

In all that fits the man for joy in life, 

And maidens learn the art of womanhood 
We heard the poet’s lay, the singer’s song 
We mingled freely with the lofty souled; 

And bowed our heads in chapels fragrant with 
Devotion. Passing down the avenues 
We saw what seemed a mass of splendor. Pile 
On pile of gold-topped marble rose before us 
In ever magnified magnificence, 

Till near the river’s brink, encircled by 
A chain of palaces and parked mid elms, 
Appeared the city’s grandest monument 
And symbol of authority—a dome 
Surrounded bv a coronet of towers. 

Prom him who walked with me I learned it was 


72 Moods and Moments. 

The Judgment Hall, whose circling palaces 
Maintained in state the country’s peers and 
princes. 

With something kin to sadness I inquired 
What need there was of princes in a land 
Where all were one in loving brotherhood. 

At which my comrade smiled, and made reply: 
“ Brothers are we all; yet nature bids us 
give 

To those we choose as guardians of our 
state, 

To those whose great achievements widen 
life, 

That reverence and honor due to worth— 
The honor of acknowledged nobleness. 

We have no slaves; so ’tis no shame .to call 
A brother, Prince. The gift bespeaks the 
giver.” 

These words were scarcely spoken ere we 
reached 

The Judgment Hall. We entered, passed amid 
A wilderness of columns, galleries 
And clustered rooms until we stood beneath 
The heaven-filling dome. Before me rose 
The Judgment Seat. Thereon I saw a man 
Hot yet advanced in years. About his brow 


The Twilight Country. 73 

He wore an iron circlet, wreathed with laurel, 
And in the front surmounted by a cross 
Of gold—the threefold symbol of his power, 

And of its source in culture, love and labor. 

A robe of silk thick-strewn with opal, pearl 
And ruby, graced his God-like form. His locks 
Hung loose. His mien was free. And in his 
face 

The whirlwind, heat and thunder seemed to 
sleep. 

My presence spying soon amongst the throng 
That crowded round his seat, he called, me forth 
To hear my judgment. Words of love he 
spake: 

“ Son, thy own desires have judged thee. Do 
thou that 

Which gives thee happiness and blesseth all. 
Beyond the city, .toward the west, thou’lt find 
Thy home. Go there! With labor make the 
earth 

Yield thee a plenteous harvest. Heap the joy 
That springs of love-sown seed. Live near to 
God; 

And let thy soul be filled with nature’s mean¬ 
ing!” 

I turned to go, uncertain what my task 


74 Moods and Moments. 

Might be, when from the multitude stepped 
forth 

A maid more lovely than the waking spring-— 
The maiden on earth long 
sought, 

The maiden my dreams* had 
brought, 

The maid that the morning had taken 
away, 

The fair one of fancy unknown of the 
day. 

In her eyes was the night sky’s heavy blue; 

In her hair was the night air’s nameless 
hue; 

And her body the soul of an angel arrayed. 
I clasped her; I prayed, 

With spirit afraid, 

No more to depart, 

Not again to unloosen .the strings of my 
heart. 

The maiden’s answer soothed my ev’ry pain:— 

“ Love, most patiently I’ve waited thee; 
and day 

By day I’ve labored, making sweet the 
home 


The Twilight Country. 75 

That soon should house our bonded souls. 
We are 

For one another, love; and here, where all 
Good comes to pass, we’ll realize that joy 
Which in the world could only be a dream. 
In quiet ecstasy our souls shall journey.” 
In echo of her words* a happy murmur 
Thrilled thru the multitude. Upon the face 
Of him who held the Judgment Seat a smile 
Appeared which blessed us with its radiance. 
We knelt before our Judge, and from his hands 
Received: my love a lily, I a staff 
Of gold. Then arm in arm we left the hall, 
While men and maidens sang, and children cast 
Rare flowers in our path. A glad procession 
Accomp’nied us into the river’s brink, 

Where rode the bridal barge—a boat of silver 
Wrought o’er with many legends pleasing to 
The lover’s eye, luxurious with velvets 
And silks that trailed in snowy folds upon 
The water, wreathed with pearls and roses 
white, 

And moved by hidden power to soft slow music. 
As we sailed from the city ev’ning fell. 

The stars by little groups appeared in heaven. 
Above the eastern hills the full moon rose. 


76 Moods and Moments. 

And far away we heard the children sing 
Life to its fullness 
Ripens thru love. 
Hillside and meadow, 
Forest and fallow, 

Lit or with shadow, 
Flourish in love. 
Stai^sea and ocean 
Move with emotion, 
Bonded in love. 
Birdlet and flower, 

Things of an hour, 

Beings of power, 

Live but for love. 
Clasp then with kisses, 
Maiden and man! 
Gather the blisses 

Held in life’s span! 
Seek ,the eternal 
Thru the diurnal. 

Make thy days vernal 
Ever with love. 

Life doth ordain thee, 

God shall retain thee, 
Pilgrims of love. 

God the alLbeing, 


77 


The Twilight Country. 

God the all-feeling, 

Tills all with meaning, 

Tills thee with love, 

Makes life to fulness 
Ripen thru love. 

We lived a quiet life, we two with nature. 
Together often we would labor; I 
Among the fields where grain grew green and 
golden, 

And she within our villa garden, teaching 
The rose to twine about the marble walls, 

Or caring for the animals who shared 
Our life. Some days we labored not, but spent 
The hours in explorations into wilds 
Of wood and stream. Oft we would visit those 
We knew in other regions of this Twilight 
Country, 

Passing with them an hour in pleasant converse, 
Or mingling in their bloodless sports. Some¬ 
times 

Indeed we sought the pleasures of the city 
Whose culture and imperial splendor seemed 
To bind us closer to that brotherhood 
Of which we were a part. Our greatest joy 
We found, however, when, at nightfall as 


Moods and Moments. 


78 

The nightingales collected in our garden, 

My love and I sat hand in hand together. 

Then we would gaze upon the stars with 
thoughts 

Of what unfathomed possibilities 
The ocean of the infinite engulfed. 

And in our souls we felt the touch of that 
Deep yearning which is God, that nameless love 
Which binds star unto star and soul to soul. 
These precious hours we seldom marred with 
speech; 

But oft my love would strike her harp and we, 
In wordless song, would blend our voices with 
The soaring treble of the nightingales. 
Sometimes, about the middle hour of darkness, 

I would awake. Then might I see, pass up 
The river, shrouded, silent, pilgrim figures, 
With heads bent low, with arms laid crosswise 
on 

Their breasts, and all ensphered in mists of 
mild 

And moony radiance. I saw them pass 
Into the canon whence the river issued; 

And saw them then no more. One night a 
sound, 

As of a major harmony struck deep 


79 


The Twilight Country. 

By all earth’s organs blown in unison, 

Unclosed my lids. Above the mountain wall 
A crimson billow moun,ted high. Forth from 
The canon sped an armed messenger, 

In silver clad, white-winged, deep-eyed, and 
sphered 

In opalescent fire. Ilis piercing glance 
Awoke the Twilight Country to commotion.— 

’Twas many moments ere I realized 
That all had been a dream, that what I now 
Beheld was but a red reflection of 
The sunrise on the windows of the city— 

The Earthly city. Saddened by this waking, 

I sought the garden. Nature there was glad: 

Glad with the dews of the morning, 
Glad with the songs of the west wind, 
Glad with the breath of the lilac, 

Glad with the voice of the robin, 

Glad with the gladness of living. 
Happiness came to me likewise. 

Peace and a thought of the meaning 
Hidden in visions of dreamland, 

Came like a light to my spirit, 

Came with the rays of the morning. 

I questioned now no more; but spake: 


8o 


Moods and Moments. 


“ Earth, to-day thou art as yesterday; but 
then 

I knew thee not. Thou wast to me an orb 
Of woe where tears corroded ev’ry joy, 

And men found labor, toil. ? Tis true thou 
hast 

Thy pains; but love and brotherhood-de¬ 
sires 

Thou hast as well, and fellowship with 
God. 

Thy sorrows are but steps in upward prog¬ 
ress.” 

When I had done far voices seemed to sing:— 
Seek the eternal 
Thru the diurnal. 

Make thy days vernal 
Ever with love. 

Life doth ordain thee, 

God shall retain thee, 

Pilgrim of love. 

God the all-being, 

God the all-feeling, 

Eills all with meaning, 

Fills thee with love, 

Makes life to fulness 
Ripen thru love. 


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SATIRES. 


1 . 

Uhe ^Tourist Speaks* 

A tourist?— Yes, and late returned from 
Hell; 

A place not such as we have heard them tell 
About in pulpits; but a pleasant land 
Of cities, where the people understand 
What’s most enjoyable and safest too, 

Which thing they strive with all their souls to 
do. 

Each man is free to he the beast he feels; 

And no one marks it if he buys or steals. 

If he so wills, he w T orks, if not, he lazes; 

Tends his estate, or lets it go to blazes. 

It matters not in Hell. Each makes his wish; 
But, when ’tis made, he must abide the dish. 
Ho one can taste of this, and sample that, 

And then take both; he can’t choose lean and 
fat. 


85 


86 Moods and Moments. 

Whate’er a man would, that he is, no more; 
Success goes ever thru a single door. 

A true democracy is Hell, where small 
And great unite, and tramps are peers of all, 
Where men of means control the people’s lives, 
Where all things have their price, and business 
thrives 

By knavery, where a pauper woman’s free 
To be her wors.t;—a true democracy, 

With harlots, swindlers, aldermen and drink, 
With tenements and streets that teem and stink, 
And ev’ry civilized convenience. Think 
Of this, and tell me how a man can bear 
To languish here when he might glory there. 
What would I not give now to be in Hell! 

’Tis gala night; and ev’ry town will smell 
Of flowers, fireworks and flowing beer; 

A hundred brass-band tunes will itch the ear; 
Mephistopheles will speak; and crowds will 
cheer. 

Oh 1 What a thing to long for! What a sight 1 
To see the city of perpetual night, 

Where ev’ry other building’s a saloon, 

And where one’s pleasure’s always at high 
noon; 

A fine chance too to study human nature 


The Tourist Speaks. 


87 


For here assembles ev’ry type of creature: 

The man who sneezes when you say ’tis cold, 

The dupe who’s never happy till lie’s sold, 

The honest clergyman predicting grace, 

The politician looking for a place, 

The doctor with his uncollected bills, 

The lawyer who would skin the calf he kills, 
The poet who forsakes gold for a rhyme, 

The adolescent barking at his time, 

The walking, dull quotation of the styles, 

The laughing miss, and she who only smiles. 
These you could study till your head was weary. 
Then you might tipple till your eyes were 
bleary; 

And in some side saloon—whose earthly smell 
Of vile tobacco makes the bosom swell— 

You might enjoy the full of Hell’s true free¬ 
dom. 

Indeed, tho they have rules, .you may not heed 
’em; 

But honor the conventionalities 
You must; else you will lose society’s 
Regard.—But I digress !—If you should visit 
The land I mention, be the true exquisite. 

Get drunk; and bet upon tli’ infernal race; 


88 


Moods and Moments. 


And fall in love with some enameled face. 

Then you will swear that IlelFs a pleasant 
place; 

Surely not one where you would take your w T ife; 
But, all things judged, the best for future life. 


The Crocodile Soliloquizes. 89 


2 . 

Zhc (Irocofctle SoUloqul3es, 

A pickaninny clambered down the beach, 

And sat upon the sand, jus ( t out of reach 
Of brother Crocodile, who looked with sad 
And hungry eyes upon the little lad. 

Then, since he could not ope his jaws with 
profit, 

He oped his heart, and spake what fools may 
scoff at: 

Unhappy child of an unhappy race— 

Destined by heaven to fill a freeman’s place, 

But by thy paler brother made to slave, 

Or, worse, to take the part and name of knave— 
What miseries, what toiling shames await 
Thee! Well it is the child knows not its fate. 
Once did thy people boast a fatherland, 

Where none but savage princes could command. 
’Twas so for years until the trav’ler came 
To beg admittance. Little was his shame; 

For hospitality made him grow bold; 


90 


Moods and Moments. 


And lie decamped with ivory, gems and gold. 
Then came the missionary, even worse. 

The traveler was a nuisance, he a curse; 

But ye were wise enough to start a fracas 
In which God got his soul, and tlr pot his car 
cass. 

Then came the civilizing power of rum, 

Which changed the savage warrior to a bum. 
Then came the slave gang, plundering at will. 
They took ye where ye live and suffer still 
For many years ye bore the galling yoke 
Of slavery, till a civil struggle broke 
The chains. A few amendments followed soon, 
Which civilized the nigger to a coon, 

And gave ye the divine and liolv right 
To cast a ballot ere ye knew the light 
From dark. This privilege is not for use 
Howe’er. ’Tis better left to white abuse. 
Unhappy child! ye know not of the pains 
That wait at manhood’s door; far worse than 
chains, 

Far worse than ignorance in savage lands, 

Far worse than working dailv with bare hands. 
Ye may not climb to higher rank than porter; 
Nor dare ye hope to wed a good white’s daugh- 


The Crocodile Soliloquizes. 91 


Ye may not study in the best of schools; 

And must be humble e’en before the fools. 

For thee real justice is a far-off hope. 

At present ye transgress, and stretch a rope. 

But wait, and hold thy ballot-priv’lege tight; 
For that, and that alone, doth give thee right 
Unto the name of freeman. All are equal 
As long as all can vote; so let the sequel 
Of tV struggle twist'the negroes and the whites 
Be triumph for unhampered ballot rights. 

So spake the crocodile; while with much grace 
A sympathetic tear-drop coursed his face. 

He wept for the down-trodden negro race. 


92 


Moods and Moments. 


3 . 


Ube Ifnterlufces of tbe ®rcbc3tra. 

A THEME WITH VARIATIONS AND INTERRUPTIONS. 

“ .... I used to take gueat delight in noticing. 

The habits, tricks and physiognomy of Asses." 

Wordsworth. (Note to “ Peter Bell." 

Introduction - . 

My theme shall be an evening spent with fools, 
In most correct regard to social rules; 

An evening graced by music, beauty, wit, 

And no more scandal than the world deems fit. 
Of gowns I’d sing, and maids divinely fair, 

Of dudes with pimpled heads and faultless 
hair, 

Of queens of mode and portly cattle kings 
Whose regal power from legal knav’ry springs, 
Of that beau monde where truth has never 
strayed, 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 93 

Where honesty is hid and wealth displayed: 

Of all this, Muse, inspire my soul to sing; 

Nor let my fancy faint upon the wing. 

If noble thought should e’er break into storm, 
And, swelled with thunder, burst the proper 
form, 

Lead, Goddes-s! lead me back to sense again, 
And place me safely on the lower plain, 

Where, bounded by the flawless form of Pope,* 
My wit unsouled with little themes may cope. 

Interlude 1. 

But now to th’ point! My tale must still pro¬ 
gress, 

Ilowe’er my pen may falter or digress.— 

Miss Maud McBride and I arrived in state, 
And, as the code decrees, a little late. 

The theater was full with odors, dust and light. 
Three thousand color-contrasts pained the 
sight. 


* Alexander Pope : an English poet of the eighteenth 
century who wrote many excellent poems in the above 
style. His works are rich in epigrams, maxims and 
pert sayings. 


94 


Moods and Moments. 


A symphony by Brahms attacked our ears 
With wailings that had drawn a pump to tears. 
An orotundity of noise it seemed, 

Such as an academic might have dreamed. 
And something more appeared which I must 
name— 

Tho I’d give ? t more of pity than of fame.— 
Elite society was there in force: 

The plain, the groomed, the spangled and the 
coarse, 

Most millionaires, an alderman or two, 

Some clericals, and here and there a Jew. 

So I observed as with the poorer race, 

The lesser gods of earth, I took my place. 

“ Ye heavens he thanked ! ” I cried, “ I’m not 
of these! ” 

At which remark my spirit felt at ease.— 

And here the piece came belching to a close; 
And from the pit a fearful noise arose, 

Which told the music had been understood, 
That style had judged, and now pronounced it 
good. 

Such fierce applause might prove the mob 
adored, 

Bid not their faces say that they were bored. 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 95 

And Tis not strange. What art can people 
know, 

Whose whole ambition is to be a show ? 

What throbbing song could move to passion’s 
sighs 

Yon painted maid with belladona eyes? 

What heart-felt truth could ever touch a prude? 
Or thought excite the head-piece of a dude ?— 

Yet stay! Once more the instruments begin; 
A sick piano madly rattling in 
To smother melody in senseless frills, 

And murder music with a thousand trills. 

Now well for those who love the over-dressed! 
Now are the cultured listeners truly blessed! 

No subtle thought can now invade the mind, 
Nor deep emotion leave its scar behind. 

But why speak so on platitudes of noise ? 
’Twere best to leave the people to their choice. 
Small good is gained by over-zealous hate; 

And noble angers tempt the bolts of fate. 

The men wise in the wisdom of the world 
Are never to a rash destruction hurled. 

They are not first to recognize a fault; 

And only join when multitudes cry, halt. 

So would I do, this once, the proper thing; 


96 


Moods and Moments. 


Flying from earth with not too free a wing. 

Change, therefore, Goddess! change my rage to 
spite. 

Give me most strength when I am least i’ the 
right. 

Content me with a vulgar theme; of men 

In social guise to sing move thou my pen.— 

The orgy’s done; the public satisfied; 

And ev’ry lofty aim of art denied. 

Turn we, therefore, our judgment’s burning 
jet 

And those who listen with a lorgnette. 

Regard the prized men, priced maids, one and 
all! 

How groomed each seems within his curtained 
stall! 

Yon tender nymph arrayed in dairy blue, 

Hear how she speaks on music old and new. 

The program notes for her are not in vain; 

Each fly-speck on the staff she can explain. 

I watched the maid a moment past. Her 
thought 

Seemed cognizant of all that art had taught. 

The contrapuntal maze to her was plain, 

When we but felt confusion of the brain. 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 97 

Her feeling followed when the tempest rose. 

She sighed whene’er it settled to repose. 

She dreamed of shepherd loves when hautboys 
squawked; 

And thru the trumpet’s blare her hero stalked. 
But when the moment came that she must weep, 
The fair nymph lost her cue and fell asleep. 

Oh! what a fall! An angel fall’n from grace! 
Hear Goddess, cast a darkness o’er the place! 

Let mortal eyes gaze not upon the scene! 

From vulgar view, ye pow’rs her failing screen! 
But hold! Hot yet! Praise to the tuneful 
God! 

The maiden wakes in season to applaud. 

’Tis now her chance—so moderns show their 
loves-— 

To flutter, arcli her back, and burst her gloves. 
Hor does her flattering passion quite subside, 
Till full a dozen bows have been supplied 
By him of pianacrobatic fame; 

Hor till the God has fanned tli’ expiring flame 
With further tuneful zephyrs. Then adieu 
To clown, to ancient maid and parvenu, 
Tolarsdedgentry, flashy flathead beaux, 

And all the tame apes of the social show. 

The baton’s raised; the last late whisper dies; 


98 Moods and Moments. 

And Beethov’n’s * “ Marche Funebre ” assaults 
the skies: 

Thunder! The muffled thunder of woe, 

And the redounding roar of oceans surging 
in sorrow! 

No little God now wakes the strings. 

No petty grief now shakes' its wings. 

This is no mother’s, widow’s, brother’s wail 
for a human dead; 

But a tearless sob for the living sorrow"— 

The flutter of ebon cloud-wings, 

The suppressed, deep-throated, abysmal 
music of a people’s pain. 

’Tis the funeral cry of those who labor in 
bondage. 

’Tis the funeral knell of those w ho w-age war 
wrongly. 

O J 

’Tis the funeral sob of those who mourn for 
soul-darkness. 


* Ludwig von Beethoven (1770-1827) : a German 
musical composer highly esteemed in his own day, and 
still considered by some to be the greatest of com¬ 
posers. His music is not, however, as popular with the 
majority of the musically inclined as the less technical 
and complicated, but more soothing and heartfelt, 
melodies of the American ballad writers. 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 99 

’Tis a question,—a warning,—a world- 
voice,— 

A sound in an era of silence.— 

The march, is ended. Wonder holds the 
fools— 

But not for long—in silence on their stools. 

They must applaud ,to let their neighbors know, 

By outward sign, their souls are touched with 
woe. 

Like these Maud also felt the shock. Surprise 

And timid wonder mingled in her eyes. 

Half-questioning she turned, my glance to 
meet; 

But stopped off short, and, smiling, lisped: 
“ How sweet! ” 

Who hunts for pearls on land small treasure 
finds; 

So he who seeks for thought in little minds. 

Oh, Maud! those blended tones are more than 
sound; 

And should have in thy soul an echo found. 

Small is thy mind indeed, and hope is vain, 

If thou canst face unmoved a Godlike pain! 

Art thou like those who only seem at ease, 

Resigned to music as a dog to fleas ? 

LofO. 


100 


Moods and Moments. 


Or dost thou fear to break the social code; 
And trust thy mind to aught beside the mode ? 
Perhaps, like many round, thou hast a mind ? 

A soul, perhaps, but one conventions bind ? 
Perhaps thou’rt still in custom too well housed 
To be by any passion-tempest roused ?— 

Yo matter! Let it rest! We’ll go below, 

And join the promenade, and view the show. 

Intermezzo Promenado. 

Since modesty’s advent in fig-leaf days, 

And th’ crude beginning of our social ways, 
Since father Adam learned to be ashamed, 

And woman for all evils first was blamed, 
Since man resigned his tail and hairy vest, 
When has he been, than now, more vilely 
dressed ? 

A dull commercial uniformity 
Prevails to make for staid deformity, 

And one great harmony of platitudes 
Where no discording beauty e’er intrudes. 

Yet this should be no evil to enroll, 

Were not the form the shadow of the soul. 

A stupid dress, more than the printed page, 
Reveals society and damns an age. 


The Interludes of the Orchestra, ioi 


So our dull age is damned beyond reprieve; 
And damned still more because we leave 
Whatever of truth to social life belongs, 

And cling but to its husks and to its wrongs. 

A man puts on, then thinks about, his clothes; 
And that is all the creature does or knows. 

“ Enough! ” your better nature cries. “ You 
curse 

Your kind. If man is bad you paint him 
worse.” 

No! gentle soul, my painting’s heavy lined; 

But true. I draw naught other than I find; 
Not th’ best of men, remember, but the boast 
Of nations—those we serve and honor most. 
What is society ? Who are these gods, 

That we, with rev’rend hands, must .touch their 
frauds ? 

Their sins, forsooth, we are forbade to touch 
This priv’lege is for angels e’en too much. 

Who are they?—Matrons old in scandal, 
knaves, 

And moneyed eunuchs fat as harem slaves, 
Divines and honest lawyers—holy scamps, 
Aristocrats of straight descent from tramps, 
Sweet buds whose highest labor is to flirt, 


102 


Moods and Moments. 


And dudes who’d die to peep beneath a skirt. 
These are the lords! These make society! 
These are the beings I would have you see! 
Suppose we view and judge them as they pass; 
A few well judged will answer for the mass. 

The first you see before you, her in gray 
And silver ev’ning dress,—“ full dress,” some 
say,— 

Is queen this season of the higher caste, 

In social law the first appeal and last. 

A perfect type is she of the lady swell— 

That individual called the reigning belle— 

A nude in clothes, a mass of pads and pins, 

A being half frivolities, half sins; 

Small sins, indeed, which would a lesser shame, 
But which, in her, convention dares not blame. 
She does, perchance, take kisses on the sly, 
Abuse her friends, and slander those not nigh. 
But what of this? The nobler made do worse. 
Frivolities, not sins, the world must curse; 
And many such she has. First born is pride— 
The lep’rous mother of all ills beside— 

A vulgar pride, not sprung of lovely deeds, 
But such as new-acquired money breeds. 

She feels she has the right to sovereign sway, 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 103 

To take the world’s choice fruits and nothing 

pay; 

And holds herself a being better made 
Than those who are of labor not afraid. 

Her next frivolity is giving alms. 

’Tis done, perchance, to sooth some conscience- 
qualms. 

From daily thousands which her husband steals 
She doles a Sunday penny, giving meals 
To mortals whom her idle splendor rpbs 
Of warmth and light and love. So passion 
throbs 

In high-caste hearts; and self-idolatry 
Degrades the heavenly name of charity. 

So live we on in purse-proud money-lust, 

Till angels sad and devils in disgust 
Erase the word which Galilee first breathed 
Sweetly o’er earth to comfort the bereaved,* 
Till we are damned and charity as well 
And penny givers ruled from heaven and hell. 
The next of note in this imperial train 

* In the original manuscript these couplets read as 
following :— 

“ Erase the word which Galilee first breathed 
On earth a full-bloom rose a sign perceived 
By those who sail life’s sea, to whom’t doth prove 
A beacon fire which guides to shores of love.” 


104 Moods and Moments. 

Is he bedecked in spangled fob and chain- 
A peer ennobled from the pauper dregs; 

Rag peddler once, now wholesale prince of eggs. 
His sovereignty none dare dispute. Who’ll try, 
When eggs to ancient priv’lege testify ? 

’Twere ignorance to scorn so great a man, 

When th’ sneers might strike the evolution plan, 
’Gainst which no critic should be found at war, 
However much the result he may deplore. 

The system’s dead that made mean man an act 
Of grace, a sep’rate God-created fact; 

And science holds—who’s now the .thought na¬ 
bob— 

That man was made, but ’twas a monkey’s job. 
And I, for one, hold firmly to this creed, 

Tho’t throw discredit on the tail-lagged breed. 
But here I stray. Let us return to him 
We left, and find in what egregious whim 
Dame Fortune placed his seat so lordly high; 
How he escaped his patrimonial sty. 

From rags he rose to pork, became a power 
And made a million in a trembling hour. 

A lucky coup in eggs five fortunes caught, 

And complete ruin to his rivals brough,t. 

Then railroad stocks and national bonds weie 
played 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 105 

Into his hands, and there securely stayed. 
Franchises, bought for pence, he sold for 
pounds. 

Defrauding cities, he established towns. 

And so progressed, till now, despite of cares, 
His back a hundred million safely bears. 

Yet all this while has scandal not been mute. 
Dark rumors rise—unproved—which none 
refute. 

These tell of underhanded business schemes 
And cut-throat legal deeds—the usual themes 
Of gossip, not without foundation here, 

Nor yet unnoticed by the public ear. 

Some say a jail was once his place of state; 
Some that he kept a mistress, but of late 
Discharged for one whose husband will con¬ 
nive 

At tlT sharing, so his business int’rest thrive. 
Not much is our egg-crested prince above 
The common tribe who squeeze and shove 
Thru life’s soiled, sordid, and devouring lane, 
And by small hateful crimes their ends attain. 
No culture leaves its stamp upon his face. 
Naught manly marks him for a lofty place. 
None love him; and, tho’ few respect his work, 
His word outweighs the firman of the Turk. 


106 Moods and Moments. 

Some would excuse him and his past. They 
say 

That what he cannot spend he gives away. 

’Tis true. He gives to charities and schools; 
Builds homes for cripples and provides for 
fools; 

And, doing so, is numbered ’mong the blest. 
Enough of him! Turn we now toward the rest. 


That proud fat female and her slimmer half— 
A new combine of butcheress and calf— 

I’d pass in silence. No one living dares 
To probe too deeply into his affairs; 

And’t ill betides him who assaults her name 
With anecdotes or words of evil fame. 

What’s more, she’s now engaged in tearing down 
Some reputations of unstained renown. 

She loudly judges those she would invite 

To grace her ball, betraying fear and spite. 

Unto her friends, but for the world, she speaks; 

So into eager ears the venom leaks 

But let nor envy nor satiric hate 

Arrest our steps. Shun we the noble state. 

The humble and contented life be ours, 

Where simple glory paves the path with flowers. 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 107 

All! there is one we may regard with joy, 

That pup-faced youth with whom the ladies toy. 
He has nor brains nor beauty nor renown, 

Is very much a sport and more a clown; 

Yet women in his gallantries rejoice, 

While men adjust their dress to suit his choice. 
His manners are of impudent degree. 

His wit is small; his humor rather free. 

He leads cotillions with a passing grace; 
Presents to decency a brazen face; 

Is confidant and counselor at large 
In all female affairs; and guides the barge 
Of love safely thru ev’ry narrow strait;— 
He’s front door agent for the social great. 

“ But how % ” you ask, “ how came he to this 
place ? 

What sycophantic power won his race ? ” 

Kind friend, he could amuse society. 

This gift gave him superiority, 

Where others would have earned the name of 
ass;— 

The length of ear’s not all that marks that class. 
Others have shamed the ape and bent the knee; 
But few have played their part as well as he. 
Who could so dress himself in woman’s clothes 
And woman’s ways as he whene’er he chose ? 


io8 Moods and Moments. 

N 

Who else but he could wear upon his arm 
A lady’s garter, and escape all harm ? 

Who could at noon parade the public street, 
And to a rag doll chatter, and repeat 
A mother’s childish prattle ? Who, outside 
An idiot’s cell, could do ’t and keep intact his 
hide ? 

We must concede that he’s a genius fine 
As we who stumble o’er a sounding line; 

Or madly search for words to rime with love, 
Which we must match at til’ end with “ downy 
dove ”; 

Or build a swelling epigram on life, 

To prove that “ all is war “ a ceaseless 
strife.” 

Yea! by the gods! this hero justly shines 
Above all poetasters and divines, 

Above all scholars, statesmen, men of wit, 

Above the goodly, and beyond the fit. 

He shines because his brass reflects the light, 
And pales not even in the densest night. 

Hor works he with his hands nor with his head; 
Yet cake he has when others want for bread. 

He plays* the buffoon to a weary few 
Who would excite their pleasure sense anew, 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 109 

Who find that taste has gone, and love grown 
tame— 

A local irritation and a name. 

Decadent energies and careless will, 
O’er-feasted pleasures and, more awful still, 

ISTo sense of trust makes life to these seem bare 
And empty hours re-echo with despair. 

Most gladly will they pay some one to ease 
The minutes by, to find new ways to please 
Their appetites, and spice anew their old 
Desires. Such will they court and show’r wi,th 
gold. 

Such is this pup-faced youth whom dandies 
praise 

And pay and to a lord’s position raise, 

And whom the world—despite his moral limp —> 
Must crown in honor Social King and—Pimp. 

“ Oh! Maud,” I said with honest pride and 
scorn— 

For I am by no little envies torn— 

“Although it figures small and’s soon forgot, 

I’d rather he a Count that counted not— 

A no-account of unpronounced name— 

Than be a Prince of beer or pumpkin fame. 

The Count may steal at least a glance behind, 


no 


Moods and Moments. 


And in the past some splendid record find; 
But lie of casli may look not fore nor back, 

Lest of all virtues lie shall find a lack.” 

4 

But you will say: “Why give such thoughts a 
name ? 

With all caste rulings are not men the same 
Wear we not clothes to hide our homely ills ? 
Use we not perfume ’cause a stink it kills ? 

Act we not so we may be counted great? 

T)o petty triumphs not the mind elate ? 

Keep we not silent to be named as wise ? 

Tell we the truth when profit calls for lies ? 
Have we not Thursday acts and Sunday talk ? 
When we can ride another do we walk? 

Are we not modest in our neighbor’s praise ? 
Look we not that the law he well obeys ? ” 

Yea! trite philosopher, we’re built alike. 

Each has his virtues which the rest dislike. 
Each has his ill. At ev’ry door fate knocks, 

To give the poor their lice, the rich their pox. 

“ ’Tis true, ’tis pity, and pity ’tis ’tis true,” 
Immortal William* said. And I say too: 

* William Shakespeare (1564-1615) ; the talented 
author of “Hamlet,” “Macbeth,” “King Lear,” and 
other notheworthy plays which are at present occasion¬ 
ally and badly acted. 


The Interludes of the Orchestra, nr 


One touch of nature makes the world a sty; 

A little culture lifts the nostril high.— 
u Come, Maud; The bell has rung. The 
music starts. 

To linger is to miss the better parts.” 

Interlude 2. 

We two had barely reached our seats before 
The orchestra began to snort and snore 
Thru some convulsion of a modern kind, 
Supposed to show what thoughts a drunken 
mind 

Will have upon th’ eternal mystery, 

When ev’ry household nuisance is set free. 

Amid the crash and cry of pots and pans, 

Of trampled pups, night cats and flying cans, 
The hero’s bassoon voice rang madly clear, 

To question why life’s truth did not appear. 
The poem* ended in a roar of brass, 

Which proved the poet’s Pegasus an ass. 

Then ev’ry soul was softened by a song 
Of maiden beauty, yet serenely strong, 

A melody unmarred by morbid faults— 

Von Weber’s “ Invitation to the Waltz ”: 

* Such pieces are designated “ TONE-POEMS.” 


112 


Moods and Moments. 


Clasp hands now, youth and maiden; 

Clasp hands forgetting fears. 
To-day ye live in Eden; 

To-morrow gathers tears. 

Think nothing of hereafter; 

But dance while dance ye may. 
This the hour for laughter. 

Sad thoughts shall have their day. 
Sweet thoughts will pass away. 
Then must ye pause and pray. 


Feel the wild warm thrill 
Of circling with breast against breast! 
All thy being fill 

With delicious unrest! 

Feel the pulse mount high 
With heat of a passionate fire! 

Loose the long soft sigh. 

Of unuttered desire! 

For this is the moment ye measure 
The soul by the depth of its pleasure. 

This moment makes madness thy treasure. 


Feel the wild warm thrill 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 113 

Of circling with breast against breast! 
All thy being fill 

With delicious unrest! 

Feel the gentle rhythmic motion, 
Rising,—falling,— 

Like the round waves of the ocean! 
Hear the flutes and cellos calling,— 
Calling,—calling,— 

Softly calling 

Like far tree-tops in commotion,— 
Calling to the dance!— 

Unclasp now, youth and maiden. 

Unclasp; the waltz is done. 

Brief was thy life in Eden; 

At end ere half begun; 

But are ye not the better for the dance ? 

Such was my revery as strain by strain 
The waltz progressed. Then came the closing 
pain, 

The early mad-house rush for cabs and cars, 
The one vulgarity that always mars 
The pleasure of a concert, op’ra, play, 

But let none bring complaint. It is our way. 
8 


ti4 


Moods and Moments 


Sometime, not far ahead, we’ll understand 
That ev’ry orchestra is not a band, 

That melody is not the same as tune, 

That music’s muse is not a rag-time coon, 

That art is consecration, not a toy 

For grown and favored children to enjoy. 

Sometime we’ll learn the rudiments of art. 

Then will the Yankee play a cultured part.— 
Well, Maud and I, like others, rose to go; 

And soon with them stood ankle-deep in tli’ 
snow 

That swept in sheets and drifting eddies o’er 
The walk, and piled against the op’ra door. 
Half frozen were we ere our hired cab 
Came round. The very star beams seemed to 
stab 

Like blades of ice; so bitter was the night. 
Against its cold the thickest wraps seemed 
slight. 

Hot even slippered elegance was warm. 

With all its furs and gems, it had no charm 
To change Boreas’ impartiality. 

The spiteful God bit all with equal glee. 

With outward frets and many inward oaths 
T felt the crystals gather on my nose, 

As I stood for my cab to come around, 


The Interludes of the Orchestra. 115 

And prayed hell’s fire to rise and thaw the 
ground. 

At this unholy time a beggar came 
To us for help—a beggar drunk and lame. 

With clashing teeth he told how he was strange 
In town, and less the necessary change 
To buy himself a supper or a bed, 

Without which morn must surely find him dead. 
To prove the poin,t he showed his swollen throat 
And th’ bare and purple skin beneath his coat. 
’Twas- not, indeed, too clean; but then the 
dirt 

Was hardly equal to a woolen shirt. 

Besides, in place of socks or shoes, he wore 
Gum boots with holes. He said his feet were 
sore. 

’Tis possible he spoke the truth quite plain. 

If so he’ll never do the like again; 

For this time truth received small recompense. 
Some gave him coin; some good advice, the 
sense 

Of which was evident to them that gave, 

And would have been to him were he no knave. 
Some frowned his purpose down. Some looked 
away. 

A youthful millionaire was heard to say 


n6 Moods and Moments. 

He thought the world too poor to house the 
shirk, 

And only meant for those who live by work. 
One belle, however, had a tender heart. 

Perhaps it was to ease some conscience smart 
She gave the widow’s mite,—with such a tact 
That God and I alone beheld the act. 

Then came my turn. I was about to play 
The giver when a cab whisked us away. 

At th’ swellest rest’rant, where the elite dine, 
Miss Maud and I long lingered o’er our wine, 
Discussing the four-hundred’s weals and woes. 
I scorned their empty heads. Maud praised 
their clothes. 

She sighed to think what comfort money breeds; 
And told her small desires, her larger needs. 

“ Ho matter, Maud! ” I cried. “ The day will 
come 

When we can have our parties, luncheons, days 
at home, 

Our yacht, our trip to Europe and a fame, 
Perhaps, that will make envy speak our name. 
Just wait a while until my verses pay. 

We then can be as arrogant as they.” 


part HIM. 




















































































































































IRefcemptton, 


There comes a moment when sadness cloys the 
soul, 

When tender music jars, when books are stale, 
When friendship wanes and love’s red pop¬ 
pies pale, 

When those warm wind-kissed passion waves 
that roll 

With rainbows o’er our dreams have sunk 
to gray stagnation. 

A moment comes when, like the sea-w T orn rock 
Forsaken by the tide, the soul appears 
Ingloriously naked, neither with tears 

Nor smiles, no longer gladdened by the shock 
Of fancy’s harmony. Grotesque it seems 
and loveless. 

Then creep we to some idly-wooded glen 
Where dripping branches swell a brook’s soft 
song 


120 Moods and Moments. 

To many melodies, and robins throng, 

And there in peaceful nature find again 

That living calm which deepens sorrow 
into joy. 


Beside the Cataract. 


121 


Bestoe the Cataract 

She. 

On! loved one, I am sad to-night. 

The cataract makes melancholy music to mine 
ear. 

I find no consolation in its song. 

He. 

I too am sad this night, my love; 

But there is music for me in the falling water’s 
moan. 

From gazing in the heavens am I sad. 

She. 

For very emptiness I’d weep. 

He. 

For very fullness would I sing. 

She. 

The mists obscure mine eyes, and pain me. 
He. 

The distance maketh sore mine eyeballs. 

She. 

I am as one too much with sleep. 

He. 

I am forever on the wing. 


122 


Moods and Moments. 


Siie. 

My spirit may not fly. 

It knoweth not the temper of the winds. 
He. 

My spirit may not stop. 

The waters of destruction roll beneath. 
She. 

Ambition moves me not. 

*Tis hut a word that hath a far-off sound. 
He. 

Of all words, ’tis the sweetest to mine ear. 
It nameth all my hopes. 

Who hath ambition for a friend, 

Is ne’er alone tho by all men forsaken. 
Who hath ambition for a guide, 

Is never lost tho in a trackless forest. 

He is no wanderer 
Who losetli not his star. 

She. 

Then would I know ambition. 

He. 

’Tis comfort to the troubled. 

It maketh pain seem slight; 

And fear is vanquished in its sight. 

’Tis order in unrest. 


Beside the Cataract. 


Siie. 

Then would I have ambition. 

IIe. 

But he who’d have must pay. 
Ambition hath one price— 

A life of sacrifice. 

Who would attain must walk the way 
That hath no turnings, no retreats. 

If foe opposeth, foe must fall. 

If friend resisteth, friend must go. 

If people murmur, blood must flow. 
If child recalleth, child must cry. 

If love desisteth, love must die. 
Ambition, from the great or small, 
Brooks neither haltings nor defeats. 

Site. 

Then would I not ambition. 

Upon some lesser road I’d journey; 
Upon some way where love 
Might bear me company, 

Where I might take my child, 

Where I might have my friend, 

Where I might aid the lame, 

Where I might pause for rest 
Unfearful of too sudden ending, 
Unpunished by a star. 


124 


Moods and Moments. 


He. 

Then know ye not ambition. 

She. 

Is it so sweet to taste completed life? 

Is labor done so sweet? 

He. 

There’s little happiness in having done. 

’Tis happiness to do. 

She. 

What qnickeneth ambition ? 

He. 

A murmur of the sea, 

A glitter of a star, 

A moment’s solitude 

When doubt hath made a darkness in the soul, 
When thought hath made a chaos in the mind. 
Then speaketh God— 

The God within the man; 

And of the darkness comes a flame; 

And of the chaos comes a word; 

And once again is faith. 

One purpose now is clear, 

One labor to be done. 

Then have ye found ambition! 

She. 

But of this faith I know not. 




Beside the Cataract. 


125 


I have a faith that there is one 
Who giveth all a meaning— 

One master soul who guides the spheres 
And holds the lightening in his hands, 

Who fills our hearts with love for one another, 
And will not leave that love to perish ever. 

He. 

How mean and meager is thy God! 

A meddler in affairs of nature! 

Where in the infinite is room 
For such a being? 

Where in the infinite is room 
For two eternals ? 

Ho! love, there is hut one; 

And yonder cataract, 

Yon sheet of foam and thunder 
Is not his plaything. 

Gaze in the sky at nightfall! 

Gaze in the humble violet! 

Gaze in thine own sweet spirit! 

Ye then will find thy God; 

For are ye not, all ye, 

Like yon down-pouring water, 

The parts, the organs of the all-embracing One ? 
She. 

Ah love! what then is life? 


126 


Moods and Moments. 


What cometh after death ? 

He. 

Yon rainbow answers thee, 

Yon rainbow in the mist. 

W r e are but as the separate drops 
That, passing thru the color arch, 

Gleam for a moment, then are gone. 

The rainbow is eternally the same ^ 

’Tis life-—I call it God; ' 

But You and I are momentary things. 

As You and I We live no more. 

We’ll be again, as we have always been, 

Within the rainbow, part of God; 

But changed from You and I 
Siie. 

Your faith is beautiful; 

Yet I’d not have it mine. 

He. 

Your faith is comforting; 

Yet never can be mine. 

She. 

’Tis strange; but I am now no longer sad. 

Thy faith hath made me strong in mine. 

The cataract makes pleasant music to mine ear. 
He. 

I would not have it otherwise than so. 


Beside the Cataract. 


127 


Thy distant hope shall comfort thee, 

As my ambition makes me strong to live and 
strive. 

She. 

But is there not a sadness always with thee ? 
He. 

HA! love, ’tis rather sober joy than sadness. 
She. 

But have ye not some moments of despair ? 
He. 

Yes! While this summer yet was young 
A moment’s passion shook my faith. 

I doubted then if I should find 
More happiness in God’s design; 

Or in the humbler life of home 
And wife and child with simple faith 
And labor sep’rate from the soul. 

Then came I to the cataract ; 

And held- communion with its strength. 

Here God and I sat hand in hand 
The livelong night; and when the morn 
Appeared I rose refreshed and strong 
As some tired trav’ler who has slept. 










































dramatic Stupes. 







DRAMATIC STUDIES. 

l. 

Zhc /l&afcman’s ®uest* 

A madman to the mountains came while Spring 
Was yet releasing from their frozen folds 
The forests. High he came; and far within; 
And crawled to an out-leaping jut of rock; 
And stood erect; and fixed his fevered eye 
A moment on the feathered band of green 
Beneath the canon. Then he raised his hands, 
And ’gainst the age-worn mountains hurled his 
voice, 

And ’gainst th’ eternal silence: 

“ Oh God!’’lie cried, 
“ My soul hath sought thee long, and finds thee 
not. 

Since first I heard my mother’s thin-drawn lips 
In reverent pleading lift thy dreadful name, 
I’ve sought thee. Wisdom’s aid was mine. 
She names, 

But knows thee not. Her eyes behold the 
heart’s 


132 Moods and Moments. 

Vain longing. This her voice proclaims as God. 
Upon the highway of man’s progress, sin 
And sorrow have I vainly looked for thee. 
There shouldst thou be if thou art, Lord! 
Within my own unhappy soul I searched; 

But the turbulent waters hid the depths thereof. 
I had a friend who trod with me the ways 
Of thought. I saw him drown. He prayed 
for help; 

And cursed the hand that moved not to his aid. 
Ho help I gave; for from death’s doorway I 
Had hoped to hear some word of thee and that 
Beyond. I could but laugh to see the lines 
Of anguish scar his serene face, and to see 
Him claw the fragile foam his lips had made. 
He died unspeaking; and the bubbles that rose 
Were naught but breath. It was not long ago 
I held my dying babe in these shrunk arms, 
And waited with my ear close-pressed against 
Its lips. With her I loved the child was laid; 
But all availed not. Oh God! a bitter search 
Is mine. A barefoot journey over hot 
And jagged rock I’ve made. And now I come 
To the mountains. Mock my call, ye stones! 
Ye pines 


The Madman’s Quest. 133 

May laugh! But my pilgrimage has hut just 
begun. 

I seek no more with men to find thee, Lord. 
Beep in the rents of thy uneven earth I search, 
And in the quiet of its waters-” 



134 


Moods and Moments. 


IRemorse, 

They will not think to search for me to-night. 
Their vengeance is too slow. When they have 
missed 

His presence, I’ll be where I cannot be 
Pursued.—Who calls ?—A raven. Bah ! my 
nerves 

Are overwrought with travel. ’Tis unwise 
To be so hasty in one’s flight from ill. 

That very haste discovers weakness. Years 
Ago I should have schemed his taking off; 
And quietly and by some slow disease 
I should have caused his end. Instead I 
suffered 

His wretched tyranny to fill my days 

And nights with hitter helpless rage and self 

Accusings vain as schoolboy lawlessness. 

The moment found me unprepared to play 
A thoughtful part. Like some poor pasteboard 
villain 


Remorse. 


J35 

I must strike, o’er-dung my deed, and flee. 
Enough of this! What’s past is best forgot 
If all the blackness of the ages were held 
In mind, our children would go mad» upon 
The mother’s milk.—Who cries so loud ?—Still, 
heart! 

’Tis but the wind that trumpets the coming 
storm. 

The warning suits me well. I’ll seek a shelter 
In this hut until the storming cease; 

And then more calmly I’ll resume my journey. 
Come, tempest! Fall, rain, and wash the past 
away! 

Rage ! Rage ! Rage! Is there no end to wrath ? 
Has blue gehenna loosed its fires against 
The world ? Hoes heaven mean to deluge man 
In this o’erwhelming rain; or wash all murders 
Haked ? This is a night when thunder makes 
The guilty soul afraid.—I see his corpse 
Before me now, pale, stiff, with ev’ry w T ound 
Agape, exposed to all suspecting eyes, 

With red rain wet.—Why did I draw his blood l 
I might have strangled him as easily. 

Then I had seen no crimson shadows on 
The wall, no bloody hands from vacant air 


136 Moods and Moments. 

Had grasped me, flames had not appeared 
red, 

Hor thunder smote my ear so fearfully.— 
Oh! God of mercy, let me not go mad! 


Soliloquy in a Cell. 


137 


3 . 

Soliloquy in a Cell, 

How cold it is! how damp! The stones start 
from 

The walls with moisture. Laughing beauty 
* slept 

Never beneath this roof; or, sleeping, woke, 
Religious woe. They say that he who lived 
Here first did with a smile engraven die. 

And often, as I kneel before his skull, 

That smile seems printed on the bone. ’Tis 
strange 

What sport our features make of us. Of this 
Man naught remains but that last touch which 
closed 

His chronicle—the ending flourish of 
Life’s quill. And I dare scarcely take the sun¬ 
shine ; 

Lest from my shadow my deformity shall start, 
And with a monkey’s gesture mock me.—Lord, 
Hadst thou seen fit to build my body straight 
I might have stormed thy heaven with a sword, 


138 Moods and Moments. 

And to the brazen sound of war and conquest; 

Or might I of the soft-lipped kiss-tuned music 
Of ladies’ love have formed a paradise 
On earth. Or had my mind been swelled with 
what 

My body lacks, I might in that have found 
A consolation; and heaven’s wealth of joy 
Anticipated in the ecstasy 
Of pregnant vision and solemn contemplation. 
Had I been, not more, yet other than I am 
I might have lived the people’s life; their smiles 
And tears I might have tasted. How—a 

priest— 

I stand betwixt their God and them—a man 
Apart from men, a reverend obstruction. 

I can but beat the pavement with my knees; 
And, like the dripping ceiling sweat, wear thru 
The stone while time and death advance to 
meet me.— 

Ah! there’s the bell. I must not be behind. 

I would they let the children sing alone; 

The men make but a stubborn harmony. 


The Coward’s Tragedy. 


139 


Zhc Cowards Uragefcp* 

Asleep? —Can sinners sleep so calmly?—No! 
I cannot sleep. The reflex of my fever 
Consumes all peace. I fear to trust my dreams; 
But she, the falser, slumbers like a babe. 

No breath of pain escapes her pale thin lips. 
No shameful red upon the brow attests 
Her sorrow. Nothing but her flesh has life. 
Why not then finish with her?—Now!— 
’Twould be 

A simple deed to bite that lithe neck where 
It throbs, and let the blood ooze—Tool! she can 
Not bleed. The wound might run with wine— 
The last she drank before I forced the kiss 
Withheld from me, before I stopped her playing. 
She has no blood!—Come! come! what fool¬ 
ishness 

Is this I speak ? The poisoned air has made 
Me mad. Already round the dying lamp 
My fancy sees a mist make strange contortions'. 
’Tis nothing! nothing but stale tobacco smoke. 


140 Moods and Moments. 

The mist’s without. The cold foul mist is thick 
Without; and hides the shamefaced maiden 
stars. 

If only they might never shine again. 

If only this pervading gloom might last; 

But morn must come to mock the bitter soul; 
And I must grasp the hand of him I’ve 
wronged; 

And smile and learn to call myself a liar.— 
The day will soon begin. A few brief hours; 
And she, who in the northern forest, dreams 
Of her departed lover’s farewell vow, 

Will make to happy maiden meditation. 
Perhaps, ere she begins the daily task, 

A virgin prayer will rise to God for him 
Who labors in the South.—She’ll feel some pain 
That I return not. She’ll weep a little; 

But when the news that I have failed comes 
home, 

Her love will freeze; and those who called me 
friend 

Will not recall my name. I shall be stranger 
Than he who never saw a welcome smile, 

Or never felt a hand grasp his in friendship. 
Each day will see me sink in deeper shame. 
That is my progress now. I may but add 


The Coward’s Tragedy. 


141 


One misery unto another, till, 

In some dark stinking hole, I make 
The sum complete, and end my coward life.— 
Awake \—Yes ! I am here. Unloose your hair, 
My love; and bind me fast; and let me feel 
Your warm soft skin against my own. You’re 
all 

I have to live for. Let me feel you near! 


142 


Moods and Moments 


5 . 

BUce* 

They call me Alice, friend. It is the name, 
The only name, I’ve borne from infancy. 

I must have had a second once; for I 
Remember well my mother and our home— 

A wretched shack, and always damp with steam 
From tubs of washing. Father must have died 
When I was very young. I never knew him. 
They say he was a mason—skilled, but given 
To drink—and that one day while full he fell 
And broke his neck. Then I was set to work. 
My first position I received when eight 
Years old. The work had not been hard, were 
not 

The hours of labor long; but these I learned 
To shorten by judicious waste of time. 

Soon also I became acquainted with 
The other girls and boys who worked beside me. 
They took me in their brotherhood, and showed 
Me many kindnesses, and taught me much 
About the world I’d never known before. 

By twelve I was well versed in all the ways 


Alice. 


143 


Of men, and knew the best of methods to 
Increase my slender wage. The poor learn 
early!— 

My mother’s death about this time threw me 
Upon my own resources. Fortune still 
Befriended me, however, and, with what 
I earned and what from some few friends I got, 
I managed to support myself quite well. 
Things thus progressed till one night late in 
June, 

When on my way from work, I met a sport 
Whom I had seen some two, three times before. 
As we went off together he proposed 
I leave my present work and live with him. 
lie promised me employment in his office— 
Ilis father’s, I should say—and many pleasures 
That in the past had been beyond my reach. 

I took his offer. Things went well. He gave 
Me dresses, money, horses, all, in fact, 

That one could ask for comfort or enjoyment. 
I traveled, had my flowers, attended each 
Hew play, and satisfied my ev’ry whim. 

We had our quarrels as lovers will; but nothing 
Of serious weight disturbed our happiness 
For many months. But when a year had passed 
I saw that he began to tire of me. 


144 


Moods and Moments. 


He often beat me. Once, when both of us 
Were nearly crazed with drink, he kicked me in 
The jaw and trampled on my chest. When I 
Recovered from the fever that resulted, 

My friend had gone with all he owned.— 

Hid I now hate him ?—Ho! he had been kind.—■ 
I think he’s married now.—Well, to continue, 
From that day on, for some three years, I lived 
Upon the town. I went from place to place, 
And got my living how I could. I tried, 
Indeed, to make an honest livelihood; 

But that was past my strength. You smile, 
my friend ? 

You think my wish was weak ? Perhaps you’re 
right. 

But, be this as it may, you see me here. 

My life has not been Over strange. As you 
Surmise, I find it often hard to live. 

The man who runs this beer-hall lets me come 
To ply my trade while I bring customers. 

I pay a heavy fine and must besides 
Bribe monthly the police. When I’ve done all, 
And bought my clothes I’ve nothing left. My 
path 

Is hard; yet many go a harder way.— 

Have I a lover ?—Yes; that man you see 


Alice 


145 


Four tables down. lie’s waiter here. We met 
By chance when I was badly pressed. His help 
Kept me from prison. Soon the moment came 
When I, by nursing him thru sickness, could 
Repay the favor. Since that time we’ve been 
The best of friends. I help him how I can; 

He listens to my troubles.—Marry? Pooh! 
You’re young, my friend. It takes our double 
earnings 

To keep things going. As man and wife we 
could 

Hot earn enough to keep from want. Our hope 
At present is that we can take a short 
Vacation in the fall, a trip somewhere. 

We may in time go on the stage.—Oh yes! 

I’ve acted. In “ The Fatal Kiss” I took 
The role of “ Maud,” the injured country maid. 
They say I did my part quite well.—How 
friend, 

You’ve heard my tale, suppose you buy more 
wine ? 


146 


Moods and Moments. 


6 . 

Oranfcpa. 

Hush, baby! Grandpa watches always near. 
He’s careful of you. You’re the only thing 
He loves. The others drive him like a cur 
From place to place, and take his money so 
He can’t buy medicine. But Grandpa’s wise. 
They think he don’t use morphine any more. 
Ha ! ha! We two know better, don’t we, baby ? 
Your mama said to-day: u How father’s cured 
We can go out and leave the baby in 
ITis charge.” We’ll show them, baby, we’re no 
fools.— 

What! Crying ? Why’s the little one so sad ? 
And are the footlets cold ? ’Twas grandpa took 
The little shoes to buy his medicine. 

They thought ’twas baby lost ’em. Never 
mind! 

We have a pleasure far exceeding theirs, 

A pleasure compensating us for cold 
Or any other pain. One drop will make 


Grandpa. 147 

The snow turn red and run like fresh-spilled 
blood. 

The blue sky will be full of little hearts, 

Of little crimson hearts with glow-worms in 
The center of each one. And o’er the walls 
Will crawl blue, green and golden coated 
lizards. 

From vacant corners fleshless things will speak 
In bell-voiced monotone. The trees, the house, 
The chairs and all things movable and fast 
Will dance like leaves on kicksy-wicksy wave¬ 
lets. 

The wind will blow with sound of shivered 
glass, 

And we shall be so warm and light that we’ll 
FTot know the bonds of flesh.—Come, baby, stop 
Your crying!—One wee prick; and then there 
is 

Ko more of pain. Your Grandpa loves you so; 
He makes the heavy sacrifice, and gives 
You of his precious drops.—-Now, baby, quiet! 


148 


Moods and Moments. 


7 . 


Despair* 

Another absinthe, please!—I am not old 
As you count age. In years I’m now just forty. 
But if you reckon time according as 
The soul has suffered, mine has been too long 
A life. My early manhood was not diff’rent 
From that of other well-kept boys. I had 
All comforts and advantages, and money 
Enough to make life easy. ’Twas toward 
The closing of my college years I found 
Myself. I then got interested in 
The new psychology; w r orked at dreams, 
Abnormal will, psychology of sex 
And other allied subjects. Finally 
I chose the last for research work. About 
This time I also fell in love—a more 
Important fact. You’d think that one who 
knew 

The workings of the sex instinct as well 
As I then knew it would be proof against 
Affections of the heart. However, I 


Despair. 


149 


Was bitten.—Yes; another of the same. 

’Tis all I drink.—Lenore—’twas not her name, 
But then ’twill do—Lenore and I were long 
Acquainted ere I realized that she 
Was more than friend to me. She loved me too, 
In her queer way; hut she was young, light¬ 
hearted, 

And wild—a healthy, joyous animal. 

At that time I was full of heavy thoughts; 
And her unbroken coltishness was like 
A cordial to me. Time I hoped would change 
Her waywardness to bright sobriety. 

At last we were engaged; and I took ship 
To study in the universities 
Of Germany and France. I’ll lightly touch 
My three years’ sojourn there; for my career 
Was hardly more than ordinary. Wundt, 

On one or two occasions, praised my work. 

A monograph, some hundred pages, on 
“ Imagination and the Sex Instinc.t ” 

Brought me the notice of a few renowned 
Psychologists, as well as some reviews. 

I took my doctor’s decently enough 
To be congratulated. That was all.— 

The first year of my stay abroad Lenore 
And I sent weekly greetings. After that 


Moods and Moments. 


ISO 

The letters came less frequently; and soon 
Stopped altogether. Try howe’er I would 
I got no news of her. My letters came 
To me unopened; and my friends informed 
Me that Lenore had gone, they knew not where. 
As soon as I had finished work I left 
Berlin, to hunt for her so strangely lost; 

But search was vain as letter-writing. All 
I learned was that she had been married to 
A diamond buyer, and had probably 
Departed with him for Brazil. I asked 
No more; but settled sadly down to work. 

My love, but not my usefulness, was gone. 
The world still gave me cause to labor well. 

I would that I could say the samd to-day!— 
But I digress!—One night, a year 
Or so from th’ time of my return, while I 
Was staying in New York, I ran across 
Some college friends. Not being residents, 
They must, of course, invade the city’s haunts 
Of pleasure, seeing all and spending all 
They could; in common parlance, “ do the 
town.” 

We started early in the ev’ning, went 
From concert hall to concert hall, at each 
One getting more and more intoxicated.—- 



Despair. 151 

That night I had my first of absinthe.—Soon— 
That is as midnight grew to morning—we 
Turned into the most fashionable house 
Of ill repute in tld city. Here we let 
Our pent-up spirits loose. One millionaire, 
With us, who had more gold than sense and more 
Intoxicants than either, ordered wines, 

And cailed us all to drink at his expense. 

It was not long before the girls came down 
In force, down banisters and stairs as fast 
As they could slide or run. One beauty stopped 
My gaze; but till she spoke I thought her 
strange 

To me. Then—then—my God!—I saw Le- 
nore! 

The wild, the beautiful, the loved Lenore! 

But oh! liow changed! Her coltishness was 
gone. 

Her chestnut curls were bleached a yellow 
white. 

An artificial redness stained her cheek; 

And there was calculation in her eye. 

My limbs felt numb. A burning filled my 
chest. 

I know not what I did; nor if I spoke. 

My face must have betrayed emotion, tho; 


152 Moods and Moments. 

For sudden stillness fell, and ev’ry glass 
Was lowered. Lenore stood stiff. A fear, like 
that 

Which glitters in the eyeballs of a cat 
The moment it is caught at wickedness, 

Shone from her eyes; hut not a word escaped 
To show she knew ’twas I. The others saw; 

And left the room in silence. One poor wretch 
Caught up my hand and pressed it tenderly 
As she passed by. God saw her deed. God saw 
'The tear upon her cheek, I truly b’lieve; 

And God forgot her sins.—Lenore and I 
Were left alone. The agony of that 
Unholy interview you may surmise. 

I strove to find the meaning of her fall; 

But she was firm. Lenore would not unlock 
Her past. ’Twas sealed, she said, and cursed 
forever. 

Since then I’ve never seen a happy hour 
I’ve had no interest in man, nor beast, 

Nor book. There is no soothing charm in 
thought, 

No pleasant weariness in labor. Hay 
Brings no desire above the wish for nightfall, 
And night, no consolation but a sleep 
Of drunken heaviness. I’ve sold my books, 


Despair. 153 

Destroyed my manuscripts, undone my friend¬ 
ships. 

What money I have left I’m slowly using 

To fill my flesh, as my foul soul is filled, 

With wormwood.—Friend, there’s homely com¬ 
fort in 

Despair when you have touched its farthest 
deeps. 


« 
















©fces. 





ODES. 


1 . 

Go tbe Cultivated IRose* 

Flower of night! rich emblem of the life 
Of heavy-trodden cities and the sweet 
And bitter passions of the strenuous heart, 
Be thou my song! 


Among the hill ravines 
And by the unsequestered paths that lead 
To mountain wilds the rock-nursed rose, thy 
sister, 

Makes glad the wooing air with fragrant kisses; 
But thou art fragrant to the heart of man. 

In culture’s halls thou and some unheard song 
Alone oft’ seem to be with soul. All else 
Is tailored vanity and tuneless sound. 

There innocence is art and modesty 

The mode for tortured spirits. Thou, e’en thou, 

Art called upon to breath thy perfume o’er, 

I 57 


158 


Moods and Moments. 


And to caress with velvet touch, the white, 

The naked bosoms of the vain.—And yet 
It seems that we should love these gilded 
triflers, 

If only for thy presence; for thou 
Must shadow in their souls some of thy beauty; 
Some slight devotion must attend thy incense; 
Some trembling voice must answer to thy song; 
Thou canst not be a mere and false adornment. 

Upon the streets, when night’s protecting shades 
Call forth to strife passions shamed by day, 
Thy presence is remembrancer of good. 

By day thy many-petaled form proclaims 
The culture, wit and ancient rule of man. 

At night it is thy nature-soul that speaks; 

And when thou’rt seen upon the breast of one 
Who treads life’s thoroughfare in sin and sorrow 
It is as an embodied prayer for pity 
And for love. Be this thy greatest glory, 
Blower of night! 


To the Lesser Passion. 


159 


2 . 

TZo tbe Xesser passion* 

Wiiy is so small a word so loudly sounded? 
Why’s love 
Above 

Life’s proudest passions pealed? Why so 
expounded ? 

It seems that ev’ry song sings love; 

And ev’ry oath stings love; 

And ev’ry prayer brings love; 

And ev’ry worthy tale wrings love 

From life’s strange sequence. 

But why this frequence, 

This abuse 
Of love’s use? 

Why is so small a word so cruelly hounded ? 

Is life accomplished in love’s smiles and tears ? 
Can kisses halt or speed the circling years? 

Is man’s life goal to be a woman’s arms ? 

Is labor’s meed a taste of fleshly charms?— 
FTo, fool! Say not that lover’s love is more 


160 Moods and Moments. 

Than fleshly, that the spirit we adore. 

’Tis just as true that stomachs crave to eat 
The bovine spirit rather than the meat. 

Speak not in moony phrases, vaguely wild, 

As if thy public were some slobb’ring child. 
Speak bravely, fool! Is living’s gift this thing 
Of which the nimble-worded songsters sing ? 

O God! the same unvaried note, 

The flutter of a petticoat, 

A trifling ballad learned by rote 
And warbled from each warbling throat, 
Is all the answer made. 

Have men then grown afraid 
To face truth’s twining blade ? 

Or do their tongues confess 
That they believe and bless 
The kissing-cussedness ? 

I douot not many hearts have yearned for love; 
FTor many more shall yearn, and yearn in vain. 
I doubt not tears have flown, nor tears shall flow 
For love. I doubt not lips unkissed must fade; 
I doubt not love’s tempestuous, torrid bliss; 
Hor doubt I love’s low-aching, longing pains. 
But oh! fond harpist, strike thy harp anew; 

For there’s a higher joy, a deeper woe 


To the Lesser Passion. 


161 


You leave unsounded,—yea! a joy, a woe 
Surpassing love as love surpasses hate;— 

The joy of being all thyself, of doing 
The most thy soul would strive to do; the woe 
Of war which leads to naught but loss of 
strength, 

Of years of toil which only hunger leave, 

Of living in consumptive rottenness 
Upon the social dung heap of the world; 

The joy that Jesus knew and Shakespeare felt; 
The woe that makes for millions daily bell: 
These sing, young singer!—Strike a chord of 
splendor, 

Let loose a shaking thunder from the strings 
That stretch thy harp! And wake the slum¬ 
brous souls 

Of men! And drown the empty flute voice! 
Drown 

The lesser passion’s treble with thy song! 

Sing joy and woe surpassing woman love! 


162 


Moods and Moments. 


On tbe Close of tbe Century* 

Our dreams of our own importance have come 
to pathetic ending; 

And a few small truths have struck to the 
ground our colossal romances. 

Our creeds, our conceits and our close-knit 
metaphysical systems 

Tumbled, and beat the dust in our faces. Then 
like children 

Untoyed we fell weeping, prayed to, cursed and 
refashioned our Godhead. 

Pale, whimpering, pitiful, stepped we to our 
labors. 

No hope seemed ahead. Our immortal part as 
a vapor vanished; 

And the fools, who believed that a failure in 
this in another existence 

Might prove success, made moan, and, in 
picture, in song and in story, 


On the Close of the Century. 163 

Repeated their mean, weak note of decadence. 
A mystic insanity 

Seized on onr art and our thinking, made us 
do honor to madness. 

The century died; and its last articulate sound 
was of torment; 

Its last out-belching gasp was deep from the 
bowels, and rotten. 

But let the earth receive its dead. Hew eyes 
Look on and read the meaning of the stars. 
Fresh minds rethink the problems of our world. 
Young hearts beat brave with passion, long for 
war, 

And flutter not at sounds of failure. Death 
Becomes a quiet cadence to a song; 

And night brings coolness, clustered stars, and 
sleep. 

Ho longer are we troubled by the fall 
Of creeds; their echoes faint on empty shores; 
And truth, in mansions new, forgets the old. 
The academic systems built of words 
And wind have ceased to be our law in thought. 
We smile at childish Platonisms garbed 
In German phrases; small ideas obscured 
By vast vocabularies lose their charm 


Vloods and Moments. 


164 

When understood; men read, but men forget.— 
Our thought now grows in calmness, leaves the 
Cosmos; 

And man to man becomes our problem. Clear 
The blind, the hot-teared fever leaves our eyes; 
And nature seems less mad as we cease sobbing. 
A saner light throws even shadows on 
The sand. The sea takes on a quiet motion, 

A not unholy perfume fills the wood. 

The heavens move in happy meditation; 

Xo more for man, but none the less sublimely. 
A new light burns upon the morning hills. 

And love leads human feet up widening path¬ 
ways. 

Man leaves the cloud; but rises from the dust. 

Oh! wake, my soul, to the depth of the passion 
of living! 

Awake, my age, to the worth and the glory of 
doing! 

Thrust back on the mouldy past 
Its holy babbling. 

Return to the wretched past 
Its tearful treasure. 

Think new; and speak with strength to the 
heart 


On the Close of the Century. 165 

When it falters. 

Think once; think deep; and quicken thy 
thought 

Into action. 

Let the blaze of the swift-leaping lightning— 
The wild gorges revealing and brightening—■ 
Be torch-light to lead thee! 

Let the sound of the sky-splitting thunder. 

As it rends the cloud-billows asunder 
Be music to speed thee! 

While injustice remains, 

While a poverty stains 
The fair-flowered fields of the earth, fight 
on! 

While a gold-lust remains, 

While a tyranny sprains 
The backs of thy laboring sons, fight on! 
Thy mission, my age, is to act, not to dream 
nor to doubt; 

Lead, therefore, thy legions of battle, thy ty¬ 
rants to rout! 























































IWature *. 

a poem—Sympbong. 


167 





















































































































































































































































































































































































NATURE: A POEM—SYMPHONY. 


flntrofcuction* 

What, O Nature, is thy meaning? 

What mystery lurks in thy manifold forms ? 

Is the beat of the wave on the rock, 

And the whirl of the wind on the plain, 

But words in a thoughtless speech ? 

Is the storm a strength insane? 

And all thy multi-toned music no more than 
the echo of emptiness ? 

Are the stars then an ordered delusion ? 

And the questioner man but a mockery added 
to waste ? 

Is thy beauty an idiot smile ? 

And pain but the symbol of nothingness ? 

Or art thou, Nature, the voice of an infinite 
logic— 

An eternal and embodied truth? 

What, 0 Nature, is thy meaning? 

169 


Moods and Moments. 


170 


XTbe forest. 

This question assailed me 

On a soft and melodious summer morning as 
I entered the shade of a wood. 

The forest was cool. 

And from its shadowed depths came a con¬ 
fusion of broken and minor harmonies; 

The fluttering laughter of leaves intertwined 
with the pearl-dripple of bird notes, 

Playing in cadenzic modulations o’er the deep- 
toned sigh of bending boughs. 

I entered the forest, and, throwing myself on a 
bed of grass and leaves, 

Waited for the magic music to soothe me into 
slumber. 

Above my head a sky, as blue as that which fol¬ 
lows on a storm, 

Was framed in fragments by a broken leaf- 
cloud, 

Upon whose many sides of green 

The crystal sun-spray gayly danced. 

Down thru a long and columned aisle I saw an 
open glade, 


The Forest 


171 

Where many-colored flowers bloomed, a sunset 
in the grass; 

And where birds hopped between their hursts 
of song; 

And butterflies tinted by the fairies of the dawn 

Made graceful tangles in the air. 

Across this glade a slender brooklet found a 
tortured path, 

To lose itself among the trees beyond. 

And over and throughout all these beauties, 

From oak and elm and maple bough, 

From bush and encumbering vine 

Fluttered the soft-scattered voicings of the deni¬ 
zens of the forest. 

But soon the wind, whose verdured-sweetened 
breath 

Till now had only come in sleepy gasps, awoke 
in strength 

And smote with big breathings the oaken strings 
of Nature’s harp. 

The forest then trembled throughout, 

And was filled with a song 

Which, in my dreaming, I understood. 

Serene thru the years of storm and of calm; 

Draped in a veiling of snow, or enrobed in green 
glory; 


172 Moods and Moments. 

From the clouds taking tears, from the sun 
taking balm; 

We chant to the winds our xEolian psalm.* 

Blow, ye disturbers of heaven. 

Blow, ye destroyers of peace. 

Blow, and we’ll answer with singing 
Blow, that we never may cease. 

We shelter the life which flees to our shade, 
Kingly o’er scept’ring the birds and the beasts 
with our branches. 

In our gentle dominions the tempests are laid, 
And feverish winds are in dews arrayed. 

Blow, then, disturbers of heaven. 

Blow, ye destroyers of peace. 

Blow, for we’ll soften thy fierceness. 

Blow till thy breathings shall cease 

Our soul is forever kingly and high; 

Glad but in reigning we question nor winds nor 
the waters; 

And when age in the mantle of darkness -wings 
nigh, 

* Psalm is used here in the Greek sense and means a 
song to a harp accompaniment. 


The Forest. 


173 

Our brows are unbent from the crowning sky. 

Blow, ye disturbers of heaven. 

Blow, ye destroyers of peace. 

Blow till the world shall be silenced. 
Blow till all living shall cease. 

So sang the patriarchs, 

Who, in their majesty, cast a happy twilight on 
the place beneath, 

And gave a home and protection unto thou¬ 
sands. 

So sang they, and then fell into imperial si¬ 
lence ; 

While a nearby gurgling spring answered with 
its liquid melody 

The sweeping music of the forest kings. 

I heard, and looked, and at my side 

Beheld an ever-flowing cup 

From whose mossed and pebbled depths swelled 
forth a spring, 

And bubbled into song. 

I am a little gurgling spring. 

I hold no state, nor am I king. 

When I am dead no flag is furled; 

For I’m the workman of the world. 


174 


Moods and Moments. 


My birth is in the silver hills. 

From whence I work, thru little rills, 

To where I burst out as a spring, 

And unto earth a verdure bring. 

From spring to river I then grow, 

And to the sea I softly flow; 

Or I am drawn unto the sky, 

To fall in rain as time goes by. 

If I should die, then all would die. 

If I were not, the world would lie, 

A stagnant mass abroad in space, 

Without a smile to light its face. 

When I am dry the whole world thirsts; 
And if I’m chained the mountain bursts. 
I wear no glory, hold no state; 

Yet I am stronger than the great. 

I turn aside for broken boughs, 

And on my breast the lilies drowse. 

Yet, tho my strength be e’er so slight, 
Earth holds no force can brook my might. 

I cut down granite mountain chains. 

I dam up oceans; build up plains. 


The Forest. 


175 


I slave along from age to age, 

And story nature’s empty page. 

I have no rest; nor know I years; 

I feel no hopes; nor suffer fears. 

I know alone my simple task. 

And more than this I never ask. 

I am a little gurgling spring. 

I hold no state, nor am I king. 

When I am dead no flag is furled; 

For I’m the workman of the world. 

I wondered as I listened to these water-warbled 
words, 

Which came unto my searching spirit 
As a voice from light through darkness— 

As a song from nature’s crystal soul— 

To speak of resignation in the narrow circle 
of a duty 

Compassing sweet music and the perfume of a 
thousand joys, 

And bound about by unfathomable infinities. 

I wondered; but my heart was beating 
For a harmony beyond the mist-music of these 
waters, 


176 Moods and Moments. 

And longed to hear the silent voice speak out 
in revelation. 

I waited eagerly till a low call from birdland 
Trembled thru the verdure. 

Then, like one who bends his gaze to grasp the 
glories of the down-departing day, 

And sees a robin breast wing out the western 

sky, 

I gave my soul unto the smaller joy, 

And in the beauty of the bird’s bright song 
Found a moment of untainted peace. 

* Sweet we call, wake we all 

When the day’s in the dawn. 

Virgin beams, waking dreams 
Are the dower of dawn, 

And the theme we sing. 

Hopping nigh, sailing high 
From the dew till the dusk; 

Trilling glad, chanting sad 
We encounter the dusk 
As we greet the dawn. 


* This song imitates in its meter three of the 
principal robin calls. 


The Forest. 


177 


Love we sing, peace we bring 
To the sad of the earth. 

Beauty’s joy, pure and coy, 

Is our song to the earth 
In the day and dusk. 

Night is nigh; voices die; 

And the echo of morn 

Fills our song, swells it strong 
With the hope of a morn, 

As we fly from earth 

For fair, far, full-flown fields. 

So sang the birds, 

As, hopping mid the studded grass, 

They kissed the dew from flower cups, 

Or, flying down from branch to bough, 

Caught the sunshine beams a-tip. 

They sang; and the leaves and vines and flowers 
Murmured in answer melodies 
Which sounded like the warm sigh of a thou¬ 
sand flutes. 

But as I listened, filled anew with hope, 

The ground, the trees, and all about seemed to 
sink beneath me 
Till in the air, alone, I rested. 

12 


178 Moods and Moments. 

The leaves below me lolled in emerald billows, 
And made a sea which stretched unbroken to 
the end of sight, 

And thru which now autumnal hues mingled 
with the green, 

In somber magnificence. 

Within the west the heaven filled with foam of 
blood and gold; 

A pink and feathery fire flaked the zenith; 
Thin cirrus vapors, gray and lavender, shivered 
up the eastern dome; 

And back of all gleamed pale the faded sky 
From which a solitary star shone forth. 

’Twas thus for one brief moment, 

That earth and heaven, like happy angels robed 
in glory, 

Blinked their sleepy eyes before they closed 
them in mutual slumber. 

Then, as night drew over all her veiling of dark, 
I heard the multitudinous leaves rustle to the 
ground, 

And saw the naked monarchs of the wood 
Standing like black ghosts in lesser darkness. 
But soon the limpid moon appeared 
And showed me all the forest shrouded in scin¬ 
tillating ice, 


The Forest 


i79 

Which cast in all directions hack 
The pale radiance of the orb of night, 

I waited eager to behold more splendors than I 
saw, 

And thinking to hear a voice speak from the 
night 

The meaning of the forest and its beauty, 

When lo! ’twas gone, 

And I was left in darkness. 


180 Moods and Moments. 


Uhc Ocean. 

It seemed an age till in .the east 
The misty beams of morn began 
To loose the drapes of night; and then 
I saw that all about was changed. 

I stood before a sobbing sea, 

From whence I saw the water hills 
Rise from the liquid, level plain, 

And fall again into a trough, 

Or roll and slap the inclined shore. 

I watched the morning blend the night, 
And heard with awe the moaning sound, 
The music-sound, of falling waves. 

I felt the cool and sea-born breeze 
Blow round me and upon my face. 

I saw and heard the ocean’s life; 

And deep within I felt the charm, 

The sweet yet melancholy charm, 

Of being near to see and hear 
The water’s endless ebb and flow, 

To hear the ocean’s heavy rhyme, 

Its inwave beat of three-fold time, 

Its rolling harmony sublime. 


The Ocean. 


181 


While looking on I saw this picture change. 

The gentle breeze became a whipping wind. 

The wind grew stronger, and became a gale 

Which in its fury scourged the mobile seas, 

And swept the seething water into heaps. 

It blew—it howled—it shrieked—it raged! 

Like ten-fold tempests wrenched from hell, 

And hurled against the surface of the sea. 

It dragged a clotted cloud from east to west, 

Bedusking everything and blotting out .the 
heavens. 

The storm winds caught me likewise, 

Tore me off my feet, and dragged me thru the 
air 

Above the insane, swollen seas. 

On I flew thru rain and wind and darkness; 

Lashed on every side by great, gray, whirling 
water gusts, 

And harrowed by successive bursts of storm 
artillery. 

On within the gale, betwixt convulsive sea and 
sky, I flew; 

And half in awe and half in mad intoxication, 

Sang out my thoughts, 

Accompanied by the crash of thunders, cry of 
winds, and roar of waves. 


182 Moods and Moments. 

From broken depths of sea and sky 
Tear tempest all the sounds, and cry 
The harmony of rage! 

Eternal ocean, fearful, grand, 

Reechoed by the trembling land, 

Bend up thy hugest waves! 

Unwilled wild whirlwind thunder-fanged, 
Release all torrents earthward hanged, 

And lash the sea to foam! 

Cloud-palled heaven cold and proud, 

Earth’s battle canopy and shroud, 

In darkness tomb the storm! 

And tempest, full with fury, shake 
The ocean’s inmost soul, and break 
The silence of the sea! 

Loud I sang these words; 

But, tho my voice was resonant with wildest 
longing, 

It was smothered in the volume of the tempest 

That it sounded like the droning of a single bee 

Above some seething rapids. 


The Ocean. 


183 

The song had barely left my lips, 

Had hardly touched the air, 

Ere heaven crushed it twixt her thunders, 

And sent a rugged, livid lightning shaft 
Into th’ bosom o’ the sea, 

With a sound like that o’ tons o’ molten iron 
falling into water. 

This flash was followed by another and another 
in succession, 

Till atmosphere and sea were perforated, 

And rumpled heaven laced 
With intertwining lightnings; 

Till every lumped and sullen cloud above, 

And all the frothy mountainous sea below 
Re-echoed one unbroken roll of thunder, 

And reflected one continuous glare of hellish 
light. 

In the very midst of this unreined confusion 
(One moment skimming in a valley 
Deep and mountain-bound by waves whose shat¬ 
tered tops grasped hand-like at the 
clouds, 

And high hurled above the highest peak) 

I rode upon the winds, I know not how. 

Once in my course from trough to crest 


184 


Moods and Moments. 


I saw a splendid sight; 

A large steel man-of-war, a human engine of 
destruction, 

Was wrestling with the storm, 

And plunging log-like ’mid the waves. 

Her masts were gone. 

Her guns were mute. 

Her metal muscles groaned and trembled with 
each separate shock. 

And, tho her engines toiled to pain, 

She was a helpless lump upon the sea. 

Her lights were lit, and shone weirdly in the 
lurid lightning glare; 

While from her cabins and her hold 
A mangled mass of sounds arose and struggled 
with the noisy air— 

A mingling of prayers and groans, of cries and 
curses 

So strangled by the thunder, 

That, tho close beside the ship, 

I scarce could hear. 

A moment more, and we were separated; 

I rising o’er a summit, 

And the steel ship falling in a valley. 

A T o sooner had the vessel touched the trough, 
Than a triple bolt of lightning fell upon 


The Ocean. 185 

And nailed lier for a moment twixt the ocean 
and the clouds. 

Then, as the thunder split the air, 

A dull explosion and the sound of ripping steel 
Came from the vessel’s hull. 

Thrown on end she rose once more upon the 
summit of a rising wave, 

And, with the falling of that wave, 

Sank out of sight forever. 

The sea swelled o’er where she had sunk; 

And the spirit of the storm smiled in fire. 

The ship sank bubble-wreathed into the ocean’s 
ooze, 

Sank into the calm and continent-building deep, 
And I, soul-weary with the tempest, followed. 
As I descended in the heavy emerald, 

And passed the sea’s strange, silent peoples, 

A feeling of wonder and of awe came cold upon 
me; 

There seemed to move within the deep a soul— 
The ocean’s soul, 

To which the winds and waves are hut the out¬ 
ward life. 

Above is passion and beauty and pain, 

A restless eternity with a few passing smiles 


i86 Moods and Moments. 

Is the outward life of the sea. 

Destruction is hers; and her voice is thick with 
thunder. 

She rends the rock from the ragged shore, 

And crumbles it with her waves. 

The tempest she bears on her bosom; 

And the land she drains of its dust and its 
waters. 

But beneath is peace. 

]STo rage discolors the inner sea; 

And strength is here neither restless nor wild. 
All sounds are ennobled in silence; 

And the sands of destruction which sink from 
the waves 

Are built into land for the morrow. 

To me the soul of the ocean spoke not, nor 
ceased from her labor; 

And I rose from the deep and from the waves. 

Above the tempest rolled afar and faint. 

The gale subsided to a gentle wind. 

The thick clouds parted and unveiled the sky; 
And nature donned the majesty of night. 


The Ocean. 


187 


TTbe Ibeavens* 

The breeze blew soft and slow as when it shuts 
The eyelids of the rose. The fume of waves 
And folds of harmony from sea and air 
It bore. A spark-dewed, moonless, stainless 
deep 

Of blue, extending darkness domed the sea 
Whose rounded waves engulfed the edging stars. 
The constellations and the hosts of space 
In leaning circles passed from east to west. 
And all alone I lay upon the breeze— 

As hour by hour the deep grew thick with 
stars— 

And faced the mightiness, the mystery 
Of night. The sun has lit and laid the world 
Before my eyes, from daisy-spotted dell 
To snowed cathedral crag, ere this; but night, 
ISTow gleaming with abysmal glory, showed 
The worlds and suns beyond. A stillness 
grew,— 

And with fast-breathing awe I gazed above— 
And then I turned my eyes below, to find 
The ocean far beneath, unseen but for 


i88 


Moods and Moments. 


The dim and moving gloam of mirrored stars. 
Yet even this ere long was lost from sight. 

For many thousand midnight miles I rose, 

And, turning, left the shadow of our world. 
Behind me, half-illumined, rolled the globe 
Which, in the wilderness of heaven, bears 
The name of earth. Too frail it seemed for all 
Its weight of wonders; small, indeed, to bear 
Its cargo of uncounted souls across 
Eternity. And when I thought that all 
We know of nature and of life is fixed 
Upon this midget minion of the sun, 

The centuries of man became but as 
A day, His woes and wars, the marbles raised, 
And empires built memorial of his pride, 

To meanness shrank. ITis labored progress now 
An infant’s playing seemed. The tide of tears, 
Which daily sweeps the smooth and broken 
shore, 

Became a ripple on the infinite. 

And as I gazed upon the human orb— 
Cloud-tufted like a half-blown cotton bush, 
And held in overwhelming space by force 
Unseen—I woke from life’s unknowing sleep, 
And, thru the vision of my soul, beheld 


The Heavens. 189 

Our world—a rose, o’ershadowed by its leaves, 
Amid a field of flowers; our life—a dream, 

A moment’s passing dream, among the dawns 
And days and dusks of nature. “ Peace to 
thee! ” 

I cried, and sang farewell, as earth last fell 
Prom view, and distance dimmed the suns’ 
fierce light. 

World of granite and steel, 

Of laden mart and of plunging keel, 

Of trampled town and of ceaseless wheel, 
World of granite and steel, 

Farewell! 

World of bronze and of clay, 

Of flowing blood and the blatant fray, 

Of death decreed by a long decay, 

World of bronze and of clay, 

Farewell! 

World of gold and of wine, 

Of towered hall and of candled shrine, 

Of moistened lips and of flowered vine, 
World of gold and of wine, 

Farewell! 


Moods and Moments. 


190 

World of lilies and snow, 

Of answer soft and of music low, 

Of sadness touched with a silver glow, 
World of lilies and snow, 

F arewell! 

World of shadow and night, 

Of chords unheard in their upward flight, 

Of lamps that burn with a rayless light, 
World of shadow and night, 

F arewell! 

These words but sung, and sun and satellites 
Were visions of a moment ever past. 

And I moved on thru centuries of void, 

Upon whose dark a hermit wreath of stars 
Threw mists of timid light; till nearing sight 
Resolved the stars into unnumbered suns 
And billioned myriads of bowling worlds 
Which made our orb and its attending spheres 
Seem like a bubble on an endless sea. 

Amid this maze I wandered till I spied 
A violet star; and there I paused for rest. 

The atmosphere about this world was thick 
With drowsy odors; hyacinth and rose 


The Heavens. 


191 


And violet. Clustered lily-sprinkled lakes 
Abounded everywhere; but not a sea. 

Cool spider streams leapt laughingly in air, 
And, broken by the breeze, fell pattering 
Onveeded thimble-pools. Glad orioles 
And warblers filled the brush with lilts of song. 
The day declined in long and silver beams 
Amid the foliage of purple birch 
And willow trees; and spirit figures danced, 
With sigh-invaded laughter, over hill 
And dale, or slept on wind-rocked branches. 
Love 

Here lingered. Pleasure filled her cup with 
white 

And yellow wine, and drank to every bud 
That bloomed and every singing bird. And 
here, 

Forgetful of my mind’s unmoistened thirst, 

I lingered, tempting dreams, until my soul, 
Bereft of all accustomed strife and pain, 

Once more began to hope and search beyond 
The moment’s joy. And then, like one who 
leaves 

A kind yet fathomed friend, I took my flight 
For other worlds—again a wanderer. 


192 


Moods and Moments. 


When next I paused it was before a chill 
And secret star o’er which was closely drawn 
The coverlets of snowy, timeless sleep; 

And unto which a haloed play of light, 

In paling rose and golden green, gave form 
And glory to the cold. The orb was bare 
Of living things, but for a single beast; 

A polar lion trailed his silver mane, 

And called in frozen thunder tones across 
The bleak-blown folds of ice. ’Twas silence 
here 

I read as plain as tho ’twere writ upon 
The sheeted crags and solid seas below. 

1 looked upon this world, but lingered not; 
Tor wisdom was my quest, and here she slept. 

From star to star I flew; and moved, within 
Eternal night or thru unending day, 

Until my guideless flight was cheeked before 
A small, companionless, and hiding world 
Which cast a fire like that reflected when 
The winter moonlight strikes a bar of blue- 
Toned steel. This orb was scarred by many 
storms, 

And rusty canons laced the single isle 
Which made the planet’s land. Unwatered hills 


The Heavens. 


193 


Rose ragged in the gray and purple sky. 

A heavy darkness hung above the sea 
A little way beyond the shore where now 
I stood; and wailing waters licked a land 
Which neither wept nor smiled. Xo beast nor 
bird 

Xor blade of green I found upon this world; 
But only rock in brown and broken mass. 

Here melancholy made her home; and here 
In endless twilight nature pondered on 
The uselessness of things. Yet still around 
Its sun the planet circled, breaking not 
For once its ancient, meditative pace. 

In silent flight I left this bitter world, 

And traveled system after system o’er. 

I visited the spheres where more than man 
Resides; but, hearing, could not comprehend 
The people’s lofty converse. Beings less 
Than man could teach me naught, for these I 
topped 

In wisdom. Man, and only man, can voice 
A thought to human understanding. Him 
I found at length. I skimmed across his fields 
Which groaned beneath a heaviness of grain. 

I flew above his towns; tremendous piles, 

13 


194 


Moods and Moments. 


With tower, spire, and dome, and angled roof 
All tinted in autumnal hues, and set 
Upon high, sloping, flower-covered hills. 

Rich cities, gaudy in the glare of day, 

Or mellow with the three-mooned glow of night, 
Like giant opals rose on every side. 

And over many such I passed, but stopped 
Rot till I came unto a ribboned plain, 

Where all the people were assembled forth 
To celebrate some great festivity. 

On coming closer to the multitude, 

I saw that some, above the rest, were couched 
In overflowing luxury, and gowned 
In lilac, green, and azure velvets. Then, 

Below them, bending meanly in the dust, 

I saw a drove of lesser human brutes— 
Bent-backed and milk-eyed by unceasing toil, 
And by their crowded life beneath the ground. 
This multitude looked on with gaping mouth, 
And listened eagerly to one who spoke 
To them of future ease and happiness. 

This priest—for such he was—told them of 
love. 

He said that in the sun there reigned a god 
Who, when they died, took them above and gave 
Surcease of pain for all eternity, • 


The Heavens. 


195 


If during life they bore their miseries 
Without rebellion, murmur, or complaint ; 

But if they dared to raise their hands in war 
Against their masters or the ordered way, 
The future would be spent with swamp-bred 
snakes 

Upon one of the cold and slimy moons. 

The priest then paused, and, drawing on a robe 
Of strange design and savage ornament, 

Called down a benediction on the mob. 

This done, the people groveled in the dirt, 

Spit on themselves, and wailed a hymn of 
praise 

Which filled me with such sadness that I cursed 
My kind, and plunged once more among the 
stars. 

“ Now let my eyes behold the end of man, 

And death proclaim what life denies,” I cried. 
And, speaking, stepped upon a lifeless world, 
From where I stopped, and, toward the left, my 
gaze 

First fell upon a waveless sea, to which 
The clouds, like clots of mould, clung fast. 
Upon 

My right a ruined city reared its walls, 


196 Moods and Moments. 

As tlio to mark the final goal of man’s 
Ambitious discontent. The buildings stood 
The same as first the light had seen them, save 
That now they housed but emptiness. An arch 
Of triumph spanned the city’s center square; 
And many marble monuments proclaimed 
A few forgotten names, once held in high 
Repute for deeds of slaughter, pride, or love. 
The trees stood leafless, sapless, stiff with years; 
And vines like withered serpents clung upon 
The walls of crumpled homes. The harp and 
horn 

Reposed in their accustomed places. Pipe 
And violin lay sleeping with their songs. 

In each uncandled, prayerless hall of prayer 
The organ stood, most eloquently mute; 

And nature’s harmony, with man’s, death held 
Forever silent. Books of wisdom, soul, 

And story, binding all that world had lived, 
Lay round in heaps, the pages gone, decayed. 
And mart, and palace, theater, and home, 

And street were heavy with the dust of man. 

“ Speak forth, ye stones! What means this 
empty shell? 

Do things of passing youth and glory live 
To mark the sceptered soul’s unworthy grave ? 


197 


The Heavens. 

Is still decay the end of striving? Cold, 
Unechoed calm, the closing of the soul’s 
Imprisoned song ?—Resound !—Ungrave !— 
Unlock 

Thy silence, tomb of all the yesterdays! ” 

In answer to my cry a.statue fell 
From some brave-garnished building near, and 
broke 

Across my path. The echoes mocked my voice. 

My soul, by anguish maddened, strove no more, 
From sep’rate worlds, eternal truths to learn; 
But rushed thim space (while suns, and worlds, 
and moons, 

And lesser orbs, in maelstrom swirl about 
My form dissolved themselves), dashed on to 
find 

The end—the realm where all vibrations cease, 
Where nature is no more, the pit of dark 
And utter nakedness—in hopes that here, 
Before the awful void, my soul might find 
A cause for that which is. I sped in vain. 
However far I went, still more remained. 
Faint stars still beckoned thru a waste of years. 
They formed an evening dew beneath my feet; 
And overhead a cloud of broken light; 


198 Moods and Moments. 

And all around a downward-streaming veil 
Of fiery dust. To them my hopes went out. 

I made my last appeal, and bade them speak, 
Unfolding nature’s meaning to my soul. 

Before my voice had lost itself in space, 

A tone of deepening power and beauty rose 
From out the farthest-seeming star;—atone 
Which blended tears and laughter, kisses, pray¬ 
ers, 

The sounds of dying woe, the breath of winds, 
The forest’s heavy moan, the meadow-sigh, 

The stream’s soft babble on the plain, and roar 
Among the hills, the countless chirps of lialf- 
Bevealed compassion, tenderness and love, 

The sweep of storms, and, over all, the sad 
Soft thunder of inrushing waters. Stars, 

By tens of thousands, added each a tone 
Till all eternity was full with song 
(Save here and there, where lifeless worlds 
made brief 

Suspending pauses in the music). Count 
By count the volume grew. The stars dis¬ 
solved, 

The heat and light and life vibrations all 
Were modulated into sound; and heaven heaved 
In harmony,—a steady, solemn throb, a song 


The Heavens. 


199 

Of great content, to which the passing years 
beat time. 

Round! Round! Round! 

Rilling the limitless void with light and with 
motion; 

Lost in the maze of our numbers,—wavelets 
in ocean; 

Surging and striving, with progress pointed 
still onward; 

Swept by emotions of hope and striving be¬ 
gotten, 

Emotions deep-felt, but, with time past, for¬ 
gotten ; 

Surge we still onward. * 

Fury and gentleness fill us, mould and remould 
us; 

Calmness and longing attend our flight and en¬ 
fold us; 

.While joy in the sense of a motion immortal 

Moves us still onward. 

Round! Round! Round! 

We circle to pulse-beats unending; 

We bow to an order unbending; 


200 


Moods and Moments. 


Nor question nor know we the reason the 
source of the power; 

Content, thru the ages acquired, transcend¬ 
ing the hour, 

Sweeps us still onward. 

In this stage of my dream I woke 
To find myself still lying on the bed of leaves 
and grass. 

The birds were chirping cheerfully throughout 
the wood. 

The spring gushed from its mossed and pebbled 
cup in measured melody. 

A slow wind shook the bows, 

Which seemed to repeat, in hushed refrain, 
The full, supernal music of the stars, 

And thru a crevice in the canopy of leaves 
An eastward-slanting sunbeam fell and played 
upon my face. 










































































































































































































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